


The Scars on Our Hearts

by StarWitness42



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Canon Divergent, Fix-It, M/M, what if aaron didn't give up on robert?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:07:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 43,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26990386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarWitness42/pseuds/StarWitness42
Summary: The way he sees it, when Robert files for a divorce from prison, Aaron’s got two options: Back down, give Robert what he wants, and try to move on with his life or stand his ground, shove that divorce right back in Robert’s face, and get his bloody husband back. In the end, the choice is simple.Looks like Aaron’s moving to the Isle of Wight.(THIS FIC IS CURRENTLY ON HIATUS. MUCH APOLOGIES.)
Relationships: Aaron Dingle/Robert Sugden
Comments: 275
Kudos: 247





	1. November 2019 - January 2020

**6 November 2019**

_“Think we woke up Liv?” Robert whispers like he wasn’t just screaming Aaron’s name five seconds ago._

_“I think we woke the whole village up,” Aaron replies with a laugh as he curls deeper into Robert’s side, right where he belongs as far as he’s concerned._

_Robert digs his fingers into Aaron’s side, making him both squirm and giggle, two things he’d be ashamed to do with anyone else._

_“Whose fault is that, eh?” he asks._

**_Yours,_ ** _Aaron thinks. Everything in this world is Robert’s fault, both the bad and the good. But mostly the good._

_“It’ll be fine,” he says once Robert stops bloody tickling him. “She’s been sleeping with her headphones on ever since I started dating-”_

_Aaron freezes. Head to toe_ **_freezes._ ** _But instead of flipping out, leaving the bed, or doing something equally warranted but no less painful, Robert simply sighs and says, “You can say his name, you know.”_

_“I don’t wanna rub your nose in it,” Aaron says honestly. He already feels bad enough about dating Alex on the nights when he doesn’t have Robert naked and sweaty beneath him. This, here, no more than a few hours past their tear-filled reunion is not the place to discuss the ex._

_“It’s okay,” Robert says, still so peacefully it makes Aaron’s insides twist. “I’m glad you had him. You deserve someone that’s going to make you happy.”_

_Aaron kisses Robert’s chest then curls into him even further. “You make me happy.”_

_“Do I?”_

_His voice is so small, so unsure that it makes Aaron move immediately, makes him crawl literally on top of Robert so he can say, inches from his face, “Do you even need to ask?”_

_The smile that slips across Robert’s face is small, but it’s still bright enough to light up the entire world. Or Aaron’s entire world anyway._

_“Well good,” Robert says, “because I’m never letting you go again.”_

_Robert’s arms circle around him at that, pinning Aaron to his body like a bug under a microscope._

_God, he needs to stop helping Liv with her science homework._

_“Might be kinda hard to do stuff like that, pinned together,” Aaron says conversationally as he buries his face in Robert’s neck and kisses the spot just behind his ear that he knows drives Robert up a wall._

_“Eating, for instance, could be difficult.”_

_“Shut up, you know what I mean,” Robert says a little breathlessly as he squeezes his arms even tighter, making it all but impossible for Aaron to breathe properly._

_Not that he cares. Robert can breathe for him, if it comes down to it. It’s not like he hasn’t done it before._

_“I know what you mean,” Aaron agrees as he leans back up so he can drag his fingers gently through Robert’s sweat damp hair. “I’m never letting you go again.”_

_“Right back atcha,” Robert replies. And Aaron, well he’s thick enough to take that as a promise, innit he?_

Aaron blows right by Vic, the letter from Robert’s solicitor tucked into his back pocket. 

He’ll feel bad about it later, blanking her like that, leaving her alone with bags upon bags of Robert’s things packed up like rubbish. Or maybe he won’t. It’s really hard to tell these days where he’s gonna land on the Arsehole Scale at any given moment, even harder to care. Just ask that ponce Luke. Or his daft mother. 

_Wendy._ What kind of name is Wendy anyway? Sounds like a right cow that does. 

He doesn’t wanna take any of that out on Vic, so he leaves her standing in the Mill, calling out after him. Right now he needs to be alone, which means no well-meaning sister-in-law tagging along blathering on about how much she’s worried about him. 

_Aaron_ is worried about him. Aaron is worried about _everything._ But he hasn’t got enough head space to sort all that so he grabs his jacket and just leaves. 

Robert wants a divorce. Robert wants a bloody _divorce,_ the stupid prat. 

_Like I’m ever gonna let that happen._

The thought startles him as he’s walking towards the bridge in search of some peace and quiet. _Their_ bridge. It surprises him not leastwise because five minutes ago he was making plans to down a whole bottle of whiskey by his lonesome tonight whilst stuffing all of Robert’s clothes into bin bags. And Robert has a _lot_ of clothes. 

It’s startling because he’d convinced himself he was done with him. And sure, that decision came about after only two days of being shunned by Robert and about fifteen minutes staring at the solicitor’s letter and nothing more, but he’d thought it’s what he wanted. 

It’s what everyone else around here wants, innit? 

_It’s time to move on._ That’s what his mum had said. Which, really? Has it even been a week? Time is escaping him. But his mum had said to move on and every time he looks in Liv’s eyes, he sees her begging him to let go like she’s trying to steer him out of some massive crash on the motorway, and it’s all he can hear, really. 

_Robert doesn’t want you. He’s cut you off. He gave his ring back. He was saying goodbye. Move on. Get over it. Start again._ Over and over and over again until Aaron’s just sick of having to hear everyone’s take on _his_ relationship. His _marriage._

They don’t know anything. The only two people in this whole world who understand what’s going on here are him and Robert, and Robert is currently locked up somewhere on the other side of the country, out of his reach. 

Out of his reach. 

_Out of his reach._

**_Out of his reach._ **

That’s the problem, innit? That Aaron can’t reach him. Not from Emmerdale anyway. Which means there’s only really one solution to this whole messed up situation and, honestly, why didn’t he think of it before? 

He needs to move to the Isle of Wight. 

~*~

**22 November 2019**

So the decision may seem… rash. But that’s really only to an outside perspective. Still, Aaron takes his time mulling it over like a proper adult. He spends days doing nothing but that… _mulling._ But every way he looks at it, he keeps just coming up with the same thought. 

He needs to get his husband back. 

And sure, that’s not exactly practical right now, what with him serving fourteen years in one of her Majesty’s largest and most notorious prisons. But when have him and Robert ever been practical, eh? 

A couple weeks ago they were gonna flee the country together, fake names, fraudulent passports, the whole lot. So really, how much madder is this little plot of his? 

There are practical things he needs to take care of first. Once the decision sets in, he just wants to run down there and pound on the prison walls, beg to be let in. 

But he’s got a life here, roots he needs to trim back, and so he starts sending visitor requests because he _knows_ that’s gonna take a while - his husband is as stubborn as the day is long - and he works on all the... other stuff. 

It’s why he’s walking around the scrapyard now with some bloke named Jim, his hands tucked into the pockets of his overalls and his head tipped up to the sky as he breathes in the crisp, Yorkshire winter air. 

He’s gonna miss that. There’s a lot of things he’s gonna miss. But moving to the Isle of Wight is his choice. When they decided to run away, it felt more like getting swept up in a tidal wave. This isn’t that. This is a conscious, calculated, planned out decision. And when it comes to choices, in the end, he’ll always choose Robert. 

“So Emile says I should snap your hand off,” Jim the Bloke says with a laugh that borders dangerously on a guffaw. “For the right price, obviously.” 

Aaron smiles at him, thin lipped and bitter, an emotion he tries to contain when he replies, “Obviously.” 

In a perfect world, Aaron would wait for just the right buyer for the yard. Someone that makes him feel safe and comfortable, like he’s passing on a child. But this isn’t a perfect world, and if Aaron’s gonna afford one of the dozen houses he’s been online stalking these past few weeks, he’s gonna need the cash fast. 

“Well everything looks good,” the bloke continues as he leans over to peer into a burned out barrel like he’s looking for gold. 

“We’ve got a crusher out back n’all,” Aaron replies, trying to sweeten the pot. “And anything on site comes with the purchase.”

“Not gonna try and fleece me, then, are ya?” Jim elbows him in the side a little too hard to be friendly. “Sell off all the bits and bobs before I’ve got a chance to come back and take ownership? Because a big selling point ‘ere is the inventory. You’ve got some nice pieces here.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you, Sir,” Aaron says mostly because he can’t remember the bloke’s last name. Or maybe Emile never told him it. Either way, the Sir tastes funny in his mouth as he stares out at the portly bald man trying to work a deal when all Aaron wants is to be rid of the place. 

_If he only knew how easy it would be to fleece_ **_me_** _,_ Aaron thinks. Thankfully, his resting face is a bit on the prat side, so most people don’t try to take advantage. 

“Naw, of course you wouldn’t,” Jim says as he grabs Aaron’s shoulder and gives it a good, friendly squeeze. “Us scrappers gotta stick together, don’t we?”

Aaron smiles, still bitterly but warming up if only to expedite the sale. “That we do.” 

“Mind if I ask why you’re selling up?” he asks as he lets go of Aaron’s shoulder, taking a polite step away from him as his eyes thin against the midday sun. 

Aaron clears his throat once to give his stomach time to settle before he replies, “I’m moving down south. To the Isle of Wight.”

It’s the first time he’s said that out loud, and he has to pause for a few seconds to just let the sound of it sink in. 

“My husband got transferred there,” he adds eventually. 

“Oh!” Jim exclaims in a way that either means surprise or disgust, Aaron really doesn’t care so long as it doesn’t ruin his sale. 

“What does he do?” 

“He works in corrections,” Aaron replies with a sad smile he feels all the way to his bones. 

“I understand having to move for business. It’s why I’m even looking out here, wanting to branch out into Yorkshire so my new son-in-law’s got something to build up, make his own. Maeve - that’s my daughter - she keeps bending my ear about it, so I thought I’d make the leap.” 

He pauses for a moment, then turns away from Aaron so he can look at the sign in the yard and say, “I’ll have to change the name n’all.” And Aaron is so shocked by that statement that he almost misses him following it up with, “But I think we have ourselves a deal,” because the bit about changing the name does something funny to his insides. 

_“It’s Holey Scrap! What do you think?” Adam asks as he holds up a drawing of a sign for the business that looks like it was made by a four year old._

_Aaron just raises an eyebrow and flicks his eyes from the drawing to Adam’s big, fat, excited face._

_“You get it? Like holy crap but also with an ‘e’ like there are holes in it because it’s scrap.” He pauses, nods at Aaron a few times and says, “Because scrap has holes.”_

_Aaron just keeps staring, mostly now because he wants to see how far Adam will take this before he realizes Aaron is messing with him._

_“Here, let me write it out for you again,” Adam says and that’s Aaron’s tipping point. The moment where he decides to put Adam out of his misery, reaching across the table at the cafe to still his hand._

_“You don’t have to write it out for me, Ad. I get it,” he says gently, in a tone of voice he saves only for Adam, his best mate in the whole world, god help him._

_“It’s mint, innit?” Adam asks, and even if Aaron didn’t think it were mint, he’d still lie through his teeth and go with it because Adam’s gone through a lot worse for him. So what’s one stupid name for a theoretical scrapyard in the long run?_

_“Yeah,” he says softly, almost tenderly if Aaron ever had that particular emotion. “It’s mint.”_

“So we have a deal then?” Jim is asking, one hand outstretched for Aaron to shake. And for a second, he almost can’t do it. All he can see is Adam’s face, wherever the hell he is, begging Aaron not to let it go. 

But Adam’s gone, that’s the point. Adam’s gone and Andy’s gone and him and Robert were supposed to be _gone_ only now Robert’s doing a fourteen-year stretch and Aaron… well, Aaron’s stuck here, isn’t he? Alone. 

A small voice inside his head tries to tell him he’s not actually alone though. It sounds like his mum, which is why he doesn’t listen to it. 

There’s a reason he didn’t give anyone a head’s up about his plans, because he knows them, how they think, how they operate. And they’ll have him locked in his house again if they even get a whiff that he’s trying to do a runner before he’s ready to go. 

So he puts out his hand and shakes Jim’s, smiles wider than his face wants to allow and says, “We have a deal,” because this is the first step to getting Robert back, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t take it. 

~*~

**27 November 2019**

Aaron’s in the pub about a week later, fresh off a trip to Manchester to sign the papers for the yard and gasping for a drink. 

The only reason he’s come in is because today was supposed to be his mum’s day off, so he figured she’d be off shopping or summat. Otherwise he would’ve gone to David’s for a couple tinnies and tried to hide away from Liv at home. 

He thought he was safe, though, which is why he almost bolts when he sees his mum walk out from the back room. 

“Where’s Charity?” he asks a bit too pinched for his mum not to notice. 

“Hello, dear son, love of my life, key to my heart. It’s so wonderful to see you today,” she replies drolly as she rests her elbows on the bar and cups her face in her hands. 

“Yeah, hi mum, whatever, I was only wondering because of Eve. Who’s watching her today?” 

The excuse seems plausible, or at least enough for his mum to buy it. But judging by the exhausted look on her face as she pulls it out of her hands, she would’ve bought just about anything right now, up to and including dragons attacking the pub. 

“Belle took her for the day,” she says. “Which is lucky for Charity because I was already plotting some light GBH with her, and if I hadn’t’ve found a sitter it would’ve been upped to murder.” 

“Eesh,” Aaron says as he wonders whether he should ask his mum to elaborate. But in the end, she does anyway, saying an angry, “Charity and Vanessa scarpered for a long weekend by the sea. So at least one of us isn’t bloody miserable.” 

“You want I should leave?” Aaron asks as he goes to get off his stool, mostly for his own good. 

“No!” she snaps, her hand biting out like a snake to grab his forearm, hold him in place. “I want you to say you’ll come for tea tomorrow. We haven’t had a meal together in ages.” 

She’s smiling now, which is why it actually pains Aaron a little when he says, “I can’t, mum. I’ve got this overnight scrap run thing. It’s gonna take up my whole weekend.” 

Aaron doesn’t have an overnight scrap run thing. Aaron doesn’t even have a _scrapyard_ anymore. What he does have is a meeting with an estate agent down south to look at those houses he’s been covertly researching. What he does have is a tentative date, sometime after Christmas, where he plans to move down there. And so what Aaron _needs_ is a home to live in when he gets there. 

His mum pouts. Like a toddler. Her face all scrunched up with it as she says, “You’ve been working so much lately, love, I feel like I haven’t seen ya in ages.”

Aaron shifts a little awkwardly in his seat. “I’ve just been busy is all. You know, gotta make some money for Christmas presents and the like. I’ve got a new little sister to spoil, don’t I?” 

That makes something absolutely wrench behind his ribs, like a pulled muscle only in his organs. And he promises himself right then and there that he’ll never use Eve to aid his lies ever again. 

“I suppose,” she says, defeated. But a second later she rebounds and says the most unlikely thing ever: “What if I come with you?” 

Even if Aaron were going on a scrap run, even if he were still living in a normal world where this time next year he’ll be sitting in the same spot, staring out at his mum, living in Emmerdale and having a dinnertime drink in the pub, there is _no way_ he would take his mum with him on a scrap run. 

“Right,” Aaron says, dragging the word out to more syllables than it’s got any right to have. 

“What?” she asks, aghast. “It could be fun. A little road trip with your old mum. What’s so bad about that?” 

Aaron laughs. “I literally could not even count the number of things so bad about that.” 

“Well that was rude,” she says, but she’s not surprised by it. She’s just… frustrated, it seems. 

Which is why Aaron says, “I know what you’re doing, mum, and to be honest, it’s not helping.” 

She stands up stick straight, crossing her arms over her chest before asking, “And what am I doing exactly except wanting to spend time with my son?” 

“You’re checking up on me,” he says seriously, watching closely as her face settles into something almost hard, protective. “And you don’t need to. I’m fine. The work… it’s helping.” 

She sags a little at that, her eyes all big and brown and guilt-inducing as she says, “And you’d tell me? If something were wrong?” 

He nods. “You’ll be the first to know. Now, can I get a pint? Or has this suddenly become a dry pub?” 

“Cheeky git,” she mumbles as she goes to grab a pint glass from beneath the bar. And with her eyes focused on something else now, Aaron gets a second to properly relax. 

_Cheeky git,_ he thinks. More like _lying_ git. But he won’t have to do that for much longer. Soon, he’ll be able to tell everyone what’s happening, where he’s going. Which means soon, knowing his family, the sky will quite literally fall. 

He can’t wait. 

~*~

**30 November 2019**

The Isle of Wight is… actually quite pleasant to look at. He took a plane and a taxi this time, mostly because he didn’t fancy the six plus hours of driving it would take to make it here, so he hasn’t seen much of the island just yet. But the Newport area he’s chosen to settle in isn’t too bad, at least when put up against the likes of Hotten and Leeds.

He doesn’t need a big city. In fact, the only reason he’s chosen to live so close to an actual city centre is because Newport is right by Robert’s prison. And he’d live anywhere, really, so long as he’s close to the man he loves. 

Ugh. That sounded disgustingly romantic. See what Robert does to him?

At first, when he thought up this whole idea, he was gonna find some cheap flat, just enough space for him to breathe and nothing more. Aaron’s never needed much. It’s what happens when you spend time sleeping rough - you come to appreciate even the tiniest bit of indoor living space. 

But then he remembered how much he’s liked having an actual _home,_ and he realized how much Robert’s gonna need one whenever he gets out. So he’d spent large chunks of time researching houses before narrowing the list down to three. 

He’s at the final house now, a small cottage in a suburban area that the estate agent had called, “Quiet, quaint, and perfect for raising a family,” as if Aaron looks like the type to be doing that any time soon. The neighbourhood _does_ seem perfect, though, quiet just like she said, which is something Robert’s probably gonna need. And there’s something about the whole vibe of the place that reminds him of the Mill. 

Maybe it’s just wishful thinking, or delirium caused by the realization that he’s actually _doing this._ But before Aaron even sets foot inside the house, he’s claiming it as his own. 

“Now the inside is a bit dated,” Evelyn says almost apologetically as they begin to navigate the house’s interior. “The last couple that lived here was quite old and I don’t think they’d done any updating in well over forty years.”

“S’alright,” Aaron says quietly as he runs his hand over the laminate countertop in the kitchen and imagines what this place would look like with doors without handles and drawers pure white. 

“I was planning on putting my own stamp on the place anyway. I don’t mind a little bit of blank slate.” 

Evelyn starts to beam at that, money signs flashing in her eyes as she asks, “So am I misreading things, or is this the one?” 

Aaron takes a look at the sitting room, trails his eyes over the rose coloured carpeting and says, confidently, “This is the one.” 

~*~

**1 December 2019**

He sneaks back into the village the next day after spending the entire morning sorting out the paperwork on his new house. 

“It’s within walking distance of downtown,” Evelyn had said as they’d made their way back down the walkway towards the street. “Which means plenty of opportunity for work. In fact, you never did tell me what you did for a living.” 

“Mechanic,” Aaron had said without a beat of hesitation. 

“Oh how lovely! I believe we have three mechanics shops in the city proper, so you’ll have your pick of the litter I’d imagine.”

And all Aaron had hoped was that she was right. Because he had plenty of money for the down payment on the house, but the mortgage was gonna cost a pretty penny. Property on the island wasn’t exactly cheap, especially with all the money he’d have to put into the house to get it looking just right. Which means if he doesn’t find a job that pays wells, he’s sunk. 

He’s sitting on his couch right now, though, going over the numbers and praying they add up when Liv comes bounding through the front door. 

“How was the scrap run?” she asks in a tone of voice that indicates how little she actually cares about the answer. 

“It was fine,” he responds. “You know scrap.”

“Thankfully, no I don’t!” she calls back over her shoulder as she jogs upstairs and something both warm and cold settles over him at the exact same time when she does. 

He’s gonna miss her. He knows he will. But he has to believe that she’s gonna be okay here, on her own. She’s only seventeen, but the family will take care of her, he’ll make sure of it. And besides, it’s not like the pair of them were gonna live together forever. 

_“Just us three,” Robert says before leaning in to kiss the top of Aaron’s head. “We’ll be alright if we stick together.”_

_Aaron twists where he’s lying against Robert’s side, squirms around until he can look up into his eyes, “Aliens” playing in the background as Liv continues to sleep peacefully curled up in the leather side chair._

_“Just us three,” Aaron replies softly, pressing an even softer kiss to Robert’s lips. And for a fleeting moment, he feels like he’s finally home._

He blinks a few dozen times, tries to pull himself back to the present, to the very serious business matters in front of him. But the sound of Liv pottering around up in her room keeps distracting him. 

He has to know she’s gonna be okay. He _has to._ Because even if he wanted to, he’s too far in this now to turn back. The yard is gone, the sale paperwork is signed, he’s got a new home waiting for him clear on the other side of the country. So he _has to know she’s gonna be okay._

“What’s for tea, lazybones!?” Liv shouts from upstairs. 

And Aaron thinks _anything you want._

Anything she wants. 

~*~

**25 December 2019**

_“Fuck, Azza, right there,” Robert moans as Aaron buries himself deeper inside of him._

_“What the bloody hell did you just call me?” Aaron bites out as he snaps his hips and tries to keep his rhythm with the perpetual distraction laid out beneath him._

_“Azza. It’s a new…_ **_oh fuck_ ** _… a new… new pet name I thought I’d try out,” Robert explains, fairly eloquently given what Aaron’s currently doing to him._

_He was always good at multitasking._

_“You’re such a halfwit,” Aaron pants, his breath nearly gone but apparently not gone enough to avoid arguing with Robert as he circles his hips around Robert’s prostate._

_“You’ve been thinking of pet names and that’s the best you can come up with?”_

_“What are you going to call me then?” Robert asks before groaning so loudly it shakes Aaron’s entire body._

_“Robert,” he replies. “Just Robert.”_

_“Come on,” Robert begs before slapping Aaron hard on the arse. “Play along.”_

_Aaron growls at him and says, “Fine, how about The Stupid Prat Who Won’t Let Me Fuck Him In Peace.”_

_“S’abit long, don’t ya think?” Robert says all cheekily, his face split into a smug smile. “What about Robble?”_

_Aaron rolls his eyes, then rolls his hips, praying to god that this conversation will end quickly so he can finish what Robert started when he woke Aaron up on Christmas morning with his mouth around his cock._

_“Fine, Robble, whatever, just_ **_shut up_ ** _before I bloody well take my ball and go elsewhere.”_

_Aaron slaps a hand over Robert’s mouth before he can reply, uses his other hand to circle Robert’s cock, and before they know it, they’re back on track._

_Next time, Aaron’s not even gonna let him open his mouth._

He wakes up on Christmas morning with a memory still playing in his head, one hand stretched out across the empty expanse of Robert’s half of the bed while the other clutches over his aching heart. 

He’ll need to remember to get a smaller bed for his new house, one that he can’t feel Robert’s absence in every single inch. But for now, he simply pets the sheets where Robert used to lie and pretends he’s running his hand over miles and miles of bare, freckled skin. 

He misses him. With every single cell in his body, Aaron _misses Robert._ But on days like today, it’s harder, the memories of happier Christmases overwhelming him to the point that he just wants to stay in bed and wait out the day. 

His family won’t let him do that, though. They’ll have plans for him, hoops for him to jump through, ways for him to prove that he’s okay the way he’s been pretending to be ever since he decided he was leaving. And so he crawls out of bed eventually, leaning down to kiss Robert’s pillow along the way, and gets dressed for the day. 

He wears the Santa jumper Robert got him two years ago, back when he was dating Alex and stupidly wasting precious time he could’ve had with Robert. The jumper means something, though. It means Robert didn’t let him go, not for a _second._ And Aaron is going to keep up that tradition if it’s the last thing he does. 

~*~

**5 January 2020**

“Happy birthday dear Aaron! Happy birthday to you!” 

Aaron blows out the candles in one sweep, stares down at the chocolate cake it probably took Vic hours to make, and thinks of Las Vegas. 

When Robert gets out of prison, Aaron’s gonna take him there. If he’s settled enough to go, anyway. Aaron’s been reading up a lot on what happens to people when they spend a lot of years in prison, and sometimes they come out not really ready for a loud world. 

It’s why he picked the house he did. 

He still remembers that birthday, though, and how close he’d come to ruining the whole thing. But Robert had still made it perfect because that’s what Robert’s always done for Aaron. 

Even the bad things, he’s made better. 

They open presents after cake, a sea of thoughtful - and sometimes tasteless - gifts that Aaron will take with him when he leaves next week. That he’ll put in his loo or his living room or his kitchen. That he’ll look at and remember this day. But the biggest gift is yet to come. 

It’s the one he’s given himself. 

He asks a small group of the party to stay behind for a few minutes once all the festivities are over. Just his mum, Liv, Paddy, Vic and Cain. The rest can hear it through the gossip mill. These are the people that matter the most to him, outside of Robert. And so they’re the ones he needs to speak to, face to face. 

“Well what’s going on, sweetheart? The suspense is killing me,” his mum says once they’re all huddled in the back room with Aaron quite literally standing next to the door in case he needs to beat a hasty retreat. 

He rips the plaster off quickly and says, “I’m moving to the Isle of Wight.” 

His mum laughs, Paddy sputters, Liv looks like she’s gonna cry already, while Cain and Vic somehow look like they were expecting this all along. 

“You can’t be serious, love,” his mum says dismissively, waving her hand in the air to complete the picture. 

“I am, mum. I’ve already sold the yard and bought a house. I’m leaving next week.” 

It’s rage painted across his mother’s face now, pure, unadulterated _rage_ as she hisses out the words, “Robert _flaming_ Sugden!” 

“Mum,” Aaron tries to comfort, but when he reaches out to her, she just bats his hands away. 

“He’s not even _here_ and he’s ruining your life!” she screeches while the rest of his party continue to just stare at him in varying degrees of shock. 

“He’s not ruining my life.” 

“Isn’t he?” she asks. “Isn’t he?! You’ve bought a house on the _Isle of bloody Wight._ You’re… you’re leaving the village.” 

She pauses, her eyes filling up instantly with tears as one hand rises to cover her mouth when she repeats, “You’re leaving the village.” 

The room goes deathly quiet for a moment, not even the sound of a breath breaking the silence before his mum says, “What about us? You can really just… just leave us all behind like we’re nothing?” 

Anger prickles over Aaron’s skin at that, at the blatant manipulation his mother uses on him every time he tries to do something she doesn’t want him to do. He’s had it at every turn with Robert, and he refuses to have it again now. 

“I never said you were all nothing. I just said that he’s _something,_ my something, something worth fighting for. And I can’t just leave it, mum. I can’t just let him go without even _trying._ How can you not see that?” 

Her eyes turn to thin slits when she says, “Well if you’re so confident about this course of action, why did you wait until the last possible minute to tell us about it?” 

He huffs and crosses his arms tightly over his chest. “Maybe because I didn’t want to give Paddy a chance to lock me in my house again.” 

Paddy squawks at that, trying to act as if what Aaron said isn’t the truth, but it is. Aaron’s got the freshly made keys he had to get as proof. 

“No,” his mum says, shaking her head emphatically. “It was so we couldn’t talk sense into you.” 

“No,” Aaron snaps. “It was so you lot couldn’t manipulate me into doing what you want. Guilt me into staying when I need him, mum. I _need_ him.” 

“What, and you don’t need us?” 

Aaron shakes his head hard a few times. “No, not like I need him. And I’m sorry about that. But there’s a reason I was gonna run away with him. You have no idea what he means. No idea.”

“So tell us,” she says bitterly. 

Aaron flings his arms into the air, frustrated that after all these years, she still doesn’t get it. “He’s everything,” he says. “I love him, mum. I. Love. Him. I can’t… I can’t live without him.”

“But you won’t be living with him, love,” she practically begs. “You’ll be on your own, seeing him once a week if you’re lucky. What kind of life is that?” 

“The only kind I can have with him right now,” he says sadly, but not defeatedly. Never that. 

“So stay here and fly down once a month,” Paddy interjects like he’s got all the solutions in the world all of a sudden. 

“No,” Aaron says as forcefully as he can manage under the barrage. 

“Why?” Paddy counters. 

“Because he needs to know I’m there. He’s in a cell right now. Do you get that? He’s all alone in some cell staring down fourteen years of pain and loneliness. But I can make that better. _Me._ If I go, he’ll know I’m there, just down the street. He’ll be able to imagine me there and not on the other side of the flaming country, trying to forget him. I need him to know I’m _there._ I need him to know that someone remembers him.” 

“So you’re doing this for him?” she starts back in again. “The man who blocked all contact with you?” 

“No, I’m doing it for me. Because I can’t live without him.” Aaron shrugs before catching the few stray tears that have managed to escape. “And if weekly visits and close proximity are the best I’m gonna get, then I’ll take that any day of the week. I don’t care what any of you have to say against it. It’s done anyway.” 

His mum looks around at the group gathered in the back room, her eyes and voice pleading when she says, “Aren’t any of you going to speak up? Tell him that he’s acting like a crazy person?” 

Vic looks directly at him then, her eyes wet as she says, “All I was going to ask was that you say hi to him for me.” 

His mum groans deeply before turning on Cain. “And what about you, eh? Care to talk some sense into him?” 

Cain just shrugs like they’re talking about Aaron going on some school trip, not moving to the other side of the country. 

“He’s an adult,” he says with another shrug. “It’s none of my business what he does with his life.” 

His mum looks like she wants to claw Cain’s eyes out, but instead, she turns back to Aaron and says, “What about Eve? She’ll be grown by the time Robert gets out. You’re her brother. She _needs_ you.” 

“Thanks for that,” Aaron says with a bitter laugh. 

“What?” his mum asks all fake innocently.

“You’re acting like I’m never coming back. I’ll visit all the time. But I’m doing this, and there’s nothing any of you can say to make me change my mind.” 

Liv hiccups out a sob at that before bolting out the backdoor. And Aaron knew she’d be hard to convince, but he still hasn’t thought of a good way to talk her down. 

He follows her now, though, leaves his mum and the rest of them to talk amongst themselves as he finds Liv sitting on top of one of the picnic tables behind the pub. 

Aaron sits next to her, close enough to touch. And there’s nothing more in the world that he wants to do right now than wrap his arms around her, promise her it’ll all be okay. But he’s not sure if she wants that, so instead, he just sits there quietly and waits for her to open up. 

He’s expecting shouting, or guilt. Expecting something similar to his mum, actually. But all Liv does is weasel her way into his arms anyway and say a quiet, “I’m gonna miss ya.” 

“Liv, I’m so sorry, but I have to do this,” he says with more feeling than he presented inside. 

She looks up at him, her eyes still full of tears, her cheeks ruddy from holding them in, and says, “I know you do. Don’t mean I’m not gonna miss ya.” 

She smiles then, wraps her arms tighter around Aaron’s waist, and it’s like the one thing he needed to make this okay. 

“I’ll still visit loads. And you can come visit me whenever you want. Visit Robert. This isn’t goodbye.”

“Promise?” Liv asks as she squeezes him tighter. 

“Promise.” 

They’re quiet for a minute, just basking in a moment where they’re still together, still inseparable, until Aaron says a quiet, “Thank you.”

The words are whispered into her hair before he places his lips there and presses gently. 

Liv laughs at that, her voice still wet from the tears when she says, “It’s your life, Aaron. You don’t need to thank me. But… like Vic said, yeah? Say hi to him for me?” 

“I will,” he promises. 

“You will what?” Cain says from out of flipping nowhere, ruining the moment as he shoves Aaron over so he can sit on the table next to him. 

“You better not be promising to take care of yourself, because we all know that’s not happening,” Cain continues in this voice that just… like… tells Aaron somehow that things are gonna be alright. Because if Cain can take the mick, there must not be too much to worry about right? 

“I was telling her I’d say hi to Robert for her,” Aaron says with an elbow aimed squarely at Cain’s ribs. “Want I should do the same for you?” 

“No, but you can tell ‘im he owes me twenty quid still.”

“Charming,” Aaron replies before Cain buries an elbow into his ribs. 

“Come on, lad, we all know Robert will own that place inside of a year. I’m sure he’ll be able to spare a few quid for his uncle-in-law.” 

Liv laughs wetly at that, the sound causing something warm to pool in Aaron’s gut. And it’s a miracle, it is. This whole flaming thing is. 

“I’ll look after her, you know,” Cain says after the three of them just stare off into the sunset for an indeterminate amount of time. 

“I heard that,” Liv bites out, to which Cain replies, “You were meant to, half pint.” 

“Oi!” she exclaims, sitting up so she can reach across Aaron and punch Cain in the arm. 

“What’s with all the violence?” Cain asks as he rubs at the spot where Liv just smacked him. “You two are just as bad as each other.”

“We are, aren’t we?” Liv says proudly. 

And Aaron says with complete certainty, “We are.” 

And they always will be. 

They’ll always love too big and try too hard. Always fight for what’s right no matter the cost. Always refuse to give in when the stakes really matter. 

They’ll always be the same, he and Liv, which is probably why Liv was the first one to tell him and Robert to run, and the one most likely to understand what Aaron is doing now. And knowing that… it helps. 

It makes him feel like she’s gonna be okay, when he’s gone. Like maybe, if he’s lucky, all of them are. 


	2. January 2020

**13 January 2020**

The wind bites at the back of his neck as he sits with his legs crossed on the bonnet of his car in the McDonalds car park, the lukewarm cheeseburger sitting in his stomach like a lead weight. 

Cain hasn’t made a single sound since they stopped halfway through their journey south. He’s just sat there with his feet on Aaron’s bumper while he munches his own burger and stares off into the middle distance like it’s somehow managed to offend him. 

Aaron had wanted to come alone, had wanted to do _all_ of this alone, frankly. But when Cain had insisted a few days ago that they’d be able to bring more of his things if they used two cars, Aaron really couldn’t find any fault in his logic. 

At least they wouldn’t have to drive in the same car, right? He can’t imagine anything worse than spending a proper road trip with his uncle, fighting over music and yelling about speed limits. Well, he can imagine plenty worse actually. But the road trip would be up there. 

His phone burns a hole in his pocket as he shoves a handful of chips into his mouth. Also lukewarm. Also filling his stomach up like they’re made of something decidedly denser than potatoes. 

He hasn’t checked his email all day, what with the packing and the driving n’all. He hasn’t checked it since last night, in fact, when he sent his record fiftieth visitor request to a husband still doing his best to pretend Aaron doesn’t exist. 

He’s been sending one every day for almost two months now, and each time he gets denied something tightens inside of him. He likes to think it’s determination, but he knows that any day that determination could take a much darker turn if he’s not careful. It all just boils down to which one of them is more stubborn, in the end. 

Balling up his paper burger wrapper, he drops it in the bag and slips his phone out, wiping his hand on his jeans to get the grease and salt off before he puts in his passcode and opens his email app. And for a second, just like every time before, his mind says _this is gonna be the day._

**_Visitation: Denied_ **

So it’s not the day after all. Fuck. He really thought fifty would be his lucky number. But Robert is still blanking him and Aaron wants to chuck his phone across the car park just to watch it smash. 

“What’s up with you?” Cain asks, startling Aaron given how easily he’d forgotten his uncle was even there. 

“You what?”

“You,” Cain explains while waving a few chips in Aaron’s face. “You look like someone just punched you in the face.” 

“No, I don’t,” Aaron says petulantly as he wraps his arms around his body against the chill and lets his feet slip down to the bumper. 

“Trust me,” Cain says with a dark, sardonic laugh. “I’ve punched enough people in my time. I know the look.” 

“Oh, so just because you’re some legendary Thug of the Dales, I’m supposed to admit that there’s something wrong with me, is that it?” 

The corners of Cain’s lips tick up at that. “Pretty touchy for someone that ain’t got summat to hide.” 

Aaron shoots him a look that’s supposed to be withering but that, judging by Cain’s non-reaction, is nothing of the sort. So Aaron growls at him, but that only seems to further his uncle’s flaming glee, so he bites out, “Robert denied me visitation. Again. Happy now?” because he might as well get it over with, right? 

He’s expecting a lecture, or at the very least a snide comment. But all he gets is his uncle pitching his rubbish in their sad little bin bag and wiping off his hands as Aaron had done before looking back out into the middle distance formerly known as his mortal enemy. 

He takes a good, solid minute to gather his thoughts or whatever before asking, “You been sending a lot of them requests?” 

He doesn’t look at Aaron, doesn’t even move from how he’s leaning on his thighs, the sinking sun casting half of his profile in shadows. But Aaron can still feel his eyes boring into him. 

It’s comforting, almost. Someone actually wanting to _see._

“One a day for the last coupla months,” he admits. And even though he’s pretty sure Cain is here to report every single detail of his new life back to his mum, it still feels like a secret that only they’re sharing. And that matters to Aaron. 

Cain turns his face towards Aaron, looks like he’s either trying to study him or measure him up to see how big of a boot he’d need to get him home. But in the end, all he says is, “He’ll come through eventually.” 

The simple, confident statement takes the breath clear from Aaron’s lungs. Literally. It’s why he’s practically gasping when he whispers the word, “Yeah?” like it’s the last bloody life raft on the Titanic. 

Cain sits up straight, puffing his chest out as he says, with all the bravado Aaron’s come to expect from him, “‘Course he will, if he knows what’s good for ‘im.” 

Aaron laughs, a sharp bark of it that manages to put back the pieces that broke apart a few seconds ago. But then his uncle goes and shatters them once again by saying, all heartfelt and unlike him, “You are, you know.” Adding, when Aaron looks back at him in confusion, “Good for him. You’re good for him, lad. And he’ll figure that out sooner or later, you just watch.” 

Aaron doesn’t know what to say to that. He doesn’t even know what to _feel_ to that. He can count on one hand the times when Cain has been legitimately soft with him, and truth be told, he weren’t expecting one on this trip. 

But here they are, sitting in a darkening McDonalds car park, sharing feelings like it’s something they _do_ and Aaron…

Aaron can’t help but believe every single word his uncle says. 

~*~

“What’s that?” Aaron asks as Cain drops the largest holdall he’s ever seen in the middle of his sitting room. 

They’ve just finished bringing in two carloads of Aaron’s stuff, only that monstrosity right there definitely does not belong to him.

“It’s me bag,” Cain replies with a face all scrunched up like Aaron just asked him to repeat the name of every woman he ever shagged. 

“I can see that it’s your bag. But why’s it so big for just one night?”

“Well I wasn’t sure what the weather would be like down here, obviously. Or if I’d need summat for a fancy dress party,” Cain replies like that is, in any way, a sufficient answer to Aaron’s very valid question. 

“Cain,” Aaron tries to push, but his uncle just cuts him off before he even gets two words into his sentence. 

His face all scrunched up again as he gazes around the lower level of Aaron’s house and says, “Besides, you should be less concerned about the size of my bag and more concerned about what a dump you bought.” 

“Thanks for your input. Who are you? Dion Dublin?” 

Cain just blinks at him like he’s suddenly gone mad. 

“He’s from ‘Home under the’... Robert used to… you know what, it doesn’t matter. Neither does your opinion on _my_ house. It may not look like much now, but just wait ‘til you see it in a coupla years. Then you’ll be eating your words.” 

Cain tips his head at that, like something Aaron said just pricked his attention. His voice all smooth and sly as he quirks half of a smile and says, “Planning on being here that long, sunshine?” 

Aaron crosses his arms over his chest and begins to shift nervously on his feet, his whole entire body wanting to squirm under Cain’s gaze as he answers, “Well duh. It ain’t like they’re letting him out tomorrow, are they? So I’ve got-”

“Time,” Cain finishes for him, but he doesn’t sound judgy anymore. He just sounds… interested. 

“Yes,” Aaron says as emphatically as he can, like he’s trying to prove something even though he’s got no idea what. “I’ve got plenty of _time._ But seeing as how I don’t want to be living out of boxes for the rest of my life, care to, I dunno, gimme a hand with some of these?” 

Aaron taps his foot impatiently, a gesture that just makes his uncle laugh before saying, “God, you’re such a girl sometimes.” But before Aaron can respond with a rightful callout of his insult, he adds, “I’ll get started in the kitchen, you work on the upstairs.” 

And then he’s just gone, bending over to grab one of the boxes marked “Kitchen” and moseying along on his way while Aaron stares after him like he’s some sorta pod person. 

Maybe having his uncle here for a night won’t be so bad after all. 

~*~

“Oi!” Cain shouts into the kitchen where Aaron is making a very basic batch of spaghetti for their tea. “Your sofa smells like old people!”

Like all the other bits of furniture Aaron currently has, the sofa came with the house, a lovely floral number with _fringe,_ of all things, that does, like Cain so eloquently put it, smell like the people that used to live here. 

“You smell like old people!” Aaron shouts back. 

“I heard that!” 

“At least we know that your hearing hasn’t gone, old man!” 

Cain appears at the door a second later, leaning against the jamb with a look of agitation on his face as he slides his hands into his jeans pockets and says, “It’s a good thing you’re making me tea, otherwise I’d have to beat the snot out of you for that attitude of yours.” 

Aaron snorts out a laugh, then adds a bit more salt to the sauce. “It’s a good thing you were kind enough to help me move today, otherwise I’d have to spit in your spaghetti.” 

“Cheeky bastard,” Cain mumbles under his breath, and Aaron’s smile deepens. 

He’s gonna miss this. He’s gonna miss _all of them,_ the whole crazy Sugden-Dingle clan. But this is quite possibly the most important thing he’s ever done in his entire life, so he’ll just have to get used to it all, won’t he? 

“I have an interview in the morning, so if I’m not here when you wake up,” Aaron offers before Cain just waves him off. 

“I know where the kettle is, remember? I was the one who put it away.” 

That’s not what he meant. He meant _bye,_ or something like it. But it’s probably better not to say stuff like that out loud anyways. Cain’s never been a mushy sort. 

They eat their tea on the sofa, watching footie on the television Aaron made sure to buy in Leeds before he left. That and an Xbox were the only two new big purchases he’s made so far - other than the house - because he weren’t gonna take them from Liv and he weren’t about to live without ‘em either. 

It’s Leeds versus Liverpool, and Aaron keeps finding himself rooting for Liverpool just to piss his uncle off. Which makes for a lively evening as they attempt not to spill red sauce on Aaron’s pristine, thirty-year-old sofa. 

He heads up to his new bedroom after the game, takes one look at his “new” bed and decides to sleep on the floor. He’s lucky he’s got enough blankets to make things comfy, and even though he left his and Robert’s pillows behind at the Mill, he reckons he’s got something that’ll work well enough. 

It takes him a few minutes to find it, buried in all his other clothes. The one thing of Robert’s not sitting in a bin bag in their attic back at the Mill and the only thing he’s one hundred percent sure Robert will want whenever he sets foot on free soil again. 

He curls up on his blankets, balls Robert’s leather jacket under his head and takes in a deep, deep breath before closing his eyes and dreaming of how someday this house may actually be a home.

~*~

**14 January 2020**

Cain is still asleep when Aaron comes downstairs, dressed for his interview. And he’s half tempted to wake him up, say that goodbye for real. But he’s gonna see him in a month when Aaron goes back to the village for Liv’s eighteenth, so he doesn’t need to make a big song and dance of it now. 

He just leaves. Some people probably think he’s getting pretty good at that by now. 

He decides to walk to the garage he’s interviewing at, try and see if he can get the lay of the land a bit. Which means it takes him a good forty-five minutes to find Al’s Garage. 

The place is already open, but there’s only one person mucking about, a young woman with long, dark hair pulled back in a ponytail and a smile as she sings along to the radio that reminds him of easier times. 

All of a sudden, it’s Adam’s smile. Or more specifically, it’s _Holly’s._ Only it’s _not,_ because they’re both gone and Aaron is still here, staring at a stranger like an idiot because she reminds him of a dead girl. 

He gets so lost in the idea, though, in wondering where both of them are, Holly more than Adam, that he doesn’t notice the girl has approached him until she’s scowling in his face. 

“What are you looking at?” she snaps. “Never seen a girl mechanic before?” 

“No it’s just… I just… you look like someone… someone I know… or used to anyway… someone I used to know.”

He stumbles over his words, each batch coming in erratic bursts as he desperately tries not to offend his potential future co-worker before he’s even got the job. 

There’s three garages in the city, just like Evelyn the Estate Agent had said, but this was the one Aaron had wanted to work at most. The one that most felt like _home._ And so he’d really not like to mess things up on day one. 

The girl gives him a bit of a side-eye, like she doesn’t quite believe what he’s saying, like maybe he’s some sort of freak or summat, coming to gawp at the strange creature known as Female Mechanic. But before he can form his next apology, they’re joined by an older man with gray hair, pink cheeks and a strong build. 

“You scaring away the customers again, Clarice?” he asks in a voice that booms around the garage. 

The girl - Clarice - just rolls her eyes at him. “You know I don’t like it when you call me that, dad. It’s _Reese._ How hard is that to remember?” 

“I name you after one of the best female characters in the history of cinema, and you can’t even appreciate it enough to keep the name, eh?” he asks as he leans over to kiss the side of her head. A gesture that makes her squirm until she’s practically crouching on the ground just to get away from him. 

“I’m sorry about my daughter. Name’s Al Waterford. How can I help you, Sir?” 

Al sticks his hand out at that, all polite and cordial, and Aaron finds himself shaking it before he even comes up with the words he wants to speak. 

“I’m not a customer,” he eventually blurts out. “I’m… here for an interview? Aaron Sugden-Dingle?” 

Al laughs, but it’s not a mocking one, it’s just… friendly. Like everything else here, minus the girl still scowling at him. And now Al’s hand is on his back, slapping between his shoulder blades as he once again booms, “Aaron, my boy! You’re early. Cla-... _Reese,_ why don’t you get us boys a coupla brews so we can talk business.”

“Since when did I become a tea lady?” she scoffs as she crosses her grease-covered arms over her stomach. 

Al just rolls his eyes at Aaron, as if to say _daughters, am I right?_ And then he’s squeezing Aaron’s shoulder and saying to Reese, “If you make the cuppas, I’ll let you sit in on the interview. How's that?” 

“Well considering _I’m_ the one that’s gonna be working with him, I think that’s only fair anyway.” 

“Excellent!” Al exclaims, patently ignoring his daughter’s chosen attitude. “Milk and two sugars sound good to you, Aaron?” 

“Um, yeah, sounds great,” Aaron replies, still just stuttering his way through life, which is just the way you want to be at an interview. 

“It seems like it’s been a coupla years since you’ve worked regularly as a mechanic,” Al says once the three of them are settled in the back office. 

It reminds him of the portacabin. Of the way the air used to feel charged whenever it was just him and Robert in there, secrets surrounding them but never from each other, not if they could help it anyway. 

“Yeah, like my CV says, for the last five years I’ve owned and operated a scrapyard in Emmerdale Village up in Yorkshire.” 

Al whistles at that. Reese just bites her nails, which he thinks is as good a sign as any. 

“Why’d you leave, son? Place go belly up?” 

Aaron dips his head shyly and smiles. “Quite the opposite, actually. I sold it for a hefty gain. It’s just… my husband, he was transferred down here, and so we needed to move.” 

“And what does he work in?” Al asks, and Aaron takes a quick, deep breath at another potential homophobic pitfall coming for nowt. 

“He works in corrections,” Aaron lies because he’s not stupid. 

“Oh wow, he works at HMP?” Reese asks in the first time she’s shown any interest in this conversation since they sat down. “Which prison? Parkhurst or Albany?” 

Aaron didn’t know there were two prisons. When he sends his visitor requests, they just go to HMP Isle of Wight. Which means he doesn’t even know what bloody _prison_ Robert is at. 

Shit. He is a shit husband. 

“Um, Albany,” Aaron guesses, mostly because he’s already forgotten what the name of the first prison was. And Reese, for her part, seems to be satisfied with that answer. 

“Well, you’ve got enough experience to satisfy me,” Al says once Aaron’s attention has returned to him. “How’s about we say two months probation to make sure you’re a good fit. Sound good?” 

Aaron smiles so wide his cheeks hurt, the fact that he’s a horrible husband momentarily forgotten as one more thing slides into place. 

“Sounds great,” he says, and he means it. 

It sounds bloody _fantastic._

~*~ 

His next stop is, for obvious reasons, the prison itself. He’d avoided it the last time he was down here, buying the house, mostly because he hadn’t trusted himself not to just collapse outside its walls and never get up.

He feels stronger now, though, now that he’s got a house and a job, a _place_ here. And if his luck ever finally kicks in, he’ll be coming back to this prison every week for the foreseeable future. 

Might as well take a little peek, right? 

A quick google search shows that Robert’s actually probably in the other prison, Parkhurst. That’s where they keep the longer sentenced, non-sex offender prisoners. 

The first thing he notices about the place is that it’s _big._ And really, that’s the only thing his mind can stick on - seemingly miles and miles of brick walls surrounding a complex that is somehow housing Robert at this very minute. 

He can’t imagine it. There is no part of Aaron’s brain that can actually imagine Robert… _in there._ Eating in there. Sleeping in there. _Living in there_ without him, without _anyone._ And it’s just… it’s just _horrible_ is what it is. 

And that’s just for him. Aaron’s been in prison, he knows what it’s like. But Aaron had loved ones visiting him, had six o’clock phone calls every day, had only a few _months_ to look down, living that life. Robert…

Before Aaron knows what he’s doing, he’s sitting in a copse of trees near the prison, curled in a ball, crying his eyes out like a child. His mind just _spinning_ over all the ways Robert could be _feeling_ right now. How alone, how scared, how abandoned, angry, _terrified._ And he just can’t seem to take it anymore. 

He fills out his next visitor request right then and there, begs anyone that’s listening to make Robert let him in, make him _listen._ Because Aaron can cry and scream and break down all he likes, but if Robert won’t open the door, then there’s no way for him to know that Aaron is here. 

That he’s missed. That he’s loved. That he’s _worth it,_ worth trying, worth waiting, worth _everything._ Because he really is. 

Robert Sugden-Dingle is worth _everything._

~*~

Aaron is still feeling like scraped gravel when he gets home later that afternoon, which is why the sound of a computer animated machine gun almost makes him stumble back out the door. 

He gets his bearings eventually, makes his way into his sitting room to see Cain planted on the sofa playing Xbox. 

“Excuse me?” Aaron asks, but Cain doesn’t seem to hear him. Which is why he practically screams, “Excuse me?!” the second time. 

Cain hits pause then looks up at him like _Aaron_ is the one being a nuisance here. 

“Why are you still here?” Aaron asks, his voice a bit scratchy from all the crying and yelling. 

Cain whistles at him. “You really need to work on your hospitality, sunshine. I take it the interview didn’t go so well?” 

“That’s not… it went fine. Better than fine, actually. I got the job.”

“Nice one, lad!” Cain interjects before Aaron can continue. 

“Yeah, right, thanks. None of this answers my original question, though.” 

Cain looks up at him like butter wouldn’t flipping melt. “What question?” 

“The one about why you are still here.” 

“Oh, that,” Cain says flippantly, returning to the game and shouting over the sounds of death and destruction, “Technically I’m under orders not to return home without you!” 

Aaron blinks. That’s it. He just blinks for what feels like a solid minute straight as a thin sheen of sweat licks across his skin. 

He grabs Cain’s controller once he snaps out of his stupor, hits pause again and asks, “Um… what?” because that’s really all he’s got. 

Cain stretches his arms over the back of the sofa, rests one ankle on his other knee and says, all casually, “Chas asked me to come with you so that I could convince you this was a daft idea. Reckon she thought I was the best person to get through to you, though I’ve got no idea why that is. You're stubborn as the day is long.”

“Your point?!” Aaron snaps because he’s getting a little tired of the runaround here. 

“My point is that I was supposed to stay here with you until I could use my magical uncle Cain powers or whatever to lure you back to the village.”

“So what’s your plan then? Lock me in the boot of your car?” 

Cain laughs at him. “Been there, done that. No, I was thinking I’d spend a little while with my favourite nephew, play some Xbox, eat some pizza, then go home and explain to your mother that I am, in fact, very sorry but your son just couldn’t be convinced.” 

He changes his voice for the last bit, drops it to something low and comforting Aaron’s seen him use on his mum more than once. On _himself_ more than once. And he’d almost laugh at it if he weren’t still reeling from the fact that his uncle is _still here_ and quite probably _lying_ to him. 

There’s not much he can do about it now. Cain’s lying or he’s not, either way, he’s _here,_ so Aaron might as well make the best of it. 

“Yeah, well, you’re paying for the pizza,” Aaron says more than a little petulantly as he shoves Cain down the sofa and puts the batteries in the second controller. “And no more making fun of my house.” 

“You mean your granny house?” Cain says before Aaron buries his elbow so hard into his side it makes him grunt. 

“Yeah, _my_ granny house. And anyone that’s got a problem with that can take it up with me.” 

“Oh, tough guy now, I’d like to see you follow through on that threat.” 

“Make one more gobby remark,” Aaron says, dead level, his eyes beady as he turns to stare directly into his uncle’s eyes. 

Cain stares back at him for a few beats before he nods and says, “We’re not getting pineapple on the pizza.” 

Aaron rolls his eyes and groans. “That was _one_ time, and it was Robert’s choice. You can’t keep blaming me for that.” 

“I can and I will. Now hit Start before I have to take out my murderous rage on you.” 

“Empty threats, old man,” Aaron taunts. “Empty flaming threats.” 

And they are, in the end. Which is apparently exactly what Aaron needs right now. 

~*~

**16 January 2020**

Two days later, Aaron is finally picking out a bed. He’s fresh off his second day of work at Al’s, working harder than he can ever remember working for Cain or Debbie, and all he wants to do is collapse onto some insane sort of engineered comfort. 

Aaron wants a cloud. He wants a flaming orthopedic _cloud._

Cain decides to come with him to the store, either because he’s bored or he’s trying to work out how to get Aaron in the boot of his car after all. But Aaron finds that he welcomes the company when he’s staring out at a sea of mattresses unsure of how to approach them. 

This was Robert’s deal. When they replaced the bed at the pub because _I don’t want to sleep in something with a cavernous dip in the middle, Aaron, I’m afraid one day I’ll go to sleep and I’ll disappear into Narnia,_ Robert picked it out. When Aaron was in prison for GBH, Robert picked out their new bed for the Mill as well. Robert, Robert, _Robert._

Aaron, on the other hand, has no idea what he’s doing. Which is why he turns to where Cain is spread out on a nearby bed like a starfish and asks, “What do you think?” 

“I think you need to lie down on some of these and see what _you_ like,” Cain replies as he links his fingers behind his head. “This one, for instance, is far more supportive than rank old sofas with garish flower prints.” 

“I told you that you could sleep in the bedroom and I’ll take the sofa,” Aaron says bitterly. 

Cain just makes a sputtering sound. “As if I’m gonna sleep in that bed. For all we know, the old biddies died there.” 

“Really?” Aaron hisses, because _that’s_ the exact type of image he doesn’t need to have in his head. 

Cain leans up onto his elbows, looks Aaron straight in the eye and says, “Really.” 

Cain gets up a second later, grabs Aaron’s hand and leads him over to the bed before ordering him to, “Lie down,” like he’s his mum and Aaron forgot to do his homework again. 

“You don’t know who has been lying on these,” Aaron mumbles, which is true. You don’t.

“Yeah, well, at least someone didn’t almost assuredly _die_ on them. Just lie down, will ya. I’m hungry.” 

Aaron lies on the bed, but mostly because he knows a hungry Cain can be absolutely vile. But as he settles into the mattress, stretching his arms out at his sides as Cain had done, something dark settles deep into his bones. 

It’s like a slideshow behind his eyelids of Robert and him, every morning they ever woke up next to each other from that first flipping hotel up until the night before Robert handed himself in. And it’s enough to make Aaron feel like he’s suffocating. 

He sits up and gasps, tries to catch his breath as he almost chokes on his own tongue. And it feels like something old now, burrowing inside of him. Like _panic,_ the kind he hasn’t felt in ages and the kind that’s threatening to take him over now. Pull him under. Carry him away…

“Just breathe, son,” Cain says softly in his ear, one arm wrapped over Aaron’s shoulders as he holds him up and leads him away from the bed that had set him off. “Just breathe, yeah? That’s the only thing you’ve gotta do.” 

Aaron listens to his voice, tries to do as he says, just breathe, in and out, in and out, in and out, until Cain is sitting him on another, much smaller bed while he stares off into space. 

“Here’s an idea,” Cain says once Aaron’s vision has finally cleared. “Why don’t you get this one? It should fit you just perfectly without giving you all the extra space you don’t need. And then… well, later, when you need to, you can get a bigger one. How about that?” 

Aaron looks back at the bed, the one that is perfectly sized for just one person, and suddenly his uncle is making the most sense he’s ever made in his entire life. 

“It’s a good bed,” Aaron says softly as he runs his hand over the mattress. But what he really wants to say is, “It’s a good idea.”

What he really wants to say is, “Thank you.” 

They both settle for _it’s a good bed,_ though, heading to the register together to pay for Aaron’s purchase. And like with the job, another element just clicks into place. 

~*~

**27 January 2020**

At some point, Cain becomes his roommate. It’s around the two-week mark when Aaron notices, when his new sofa comes - a dead ringer for the one at the Mill - along with his bed and Cain actually offers to make tea. 

He’s on the phone with his mum while Cain is banging away in the kitchen, sitting on his sofa and thinking about how it’s stiffer than he remembers when she says, “Come home love.”

And for the first time, when Aaron says, “I am home, mum,” he actually believes it. 

He still hasn’t gotten a visitor acceptance from Robert yet, but it’s just a matter of time, innit? And it’s time that he’s gonna spend _right here._

“Wherever Robert is is home,” he adds to his mum’s silence. 

She laughs at the comment, which can only mean she’s gearing up to say something like, “You’ve been there almost a month and he _still_ hasn’t accepted a single one of your visiting requests.”

“First of all,” Aaron says in a voice that’s deliberately bored so as not to incite her further, “It’s only been a few weeks. And second, he will do, eventually.” 

“What? When he realizes he didn’t want to kick you out of his life after all?” 

“He never wanted me out of his life,” Aaron says through gritted teeth. 

“Oh, are you psychic now, love? He cut all contact with you. What else could that possibly mean?” 

“Maybe he meant he wanted to set me free,” Aaron snaps, his voice rising beyond his control. “Maybe he wanted to give me a chance at a better life because everyone in his life has always taught him he’s worthless. Ever think of that?” 

“Well maybe he was right,” his mom replies, and yeah, her voice is quieter when she says it, but he can still feel the knife twisting in his chest at her words. 

“I don’t want to be free of him,” Aaron says succinctly, as plain as he can in the hopes that she’ll get it. 

“So you’re really willing to do this for years? One hour a week and a thirty minute phone call a day for _years?_ You think you can do that?”

“It’s two hours a week, actually,” Aaron mumbles, more to himself than anything. 

“You already checked?” she asks, shock in her tone that seems to wake Aaron up. 

“Of course I already checked! What do you think, I just woke up one morning and got on a plane?”

“It sure seemed like you did,” she fires back. 

“Yeah, because I couldn’t _tell you_ anything. This has been in the works for months, mum, almost since he was arrested. But I couldn’t tell any of you lot that because you’d end up chaining me in the basement of the pub or summat.” 

“Aaron,” she tries to say, but Aaron is tired of this conversation. Of this repetitive, boring, bloody tiring _conversation._

And so he says, “Look, mum, I gotta go. Cain says tea is ready,” even though Cain said nothing of the sort. And he almost just hangs up on her at that. 

She catches him, though, says, “I love you, sweetheart, you know that, right?” 

And the thing is, he does. He knows his mum loves him… now. He knows his mum loves him… when he does what she wants. But he’s starting to realize that there are rules and restrictions to his mother’s love, to just about _everyone’s_ love, except Robert’s. 

And that’s why he’s here, now. Why he’ll be here for years and years and flipping _years_ if he has to. Because Robert loves him without conditions, and Aaron will be damned if he doesn’t love Robert back the same exact way. 

~*~

**31 January 2020**

They’re sitting on the sofa playing the Xbox a few nights later, just like they always do. Aaron had made pasta again for tea and they’ve got a plan to watch “Godfather II” later on. And for some reason that Aaron will probably never know, he decides to blurt out, “He filed for divorce.” 

Cain just nods, doesn’t even stop the video game to say, “I figured it had to have been something like that to get you moving.” 

They play for a few more minutes before Cain adds, “So this your big gesture then?” 

Aaron thinks about it for a second, thinks about storming to Keepers, banging on the door and telling Robert every single thing he meant to him. 

This… isn’t that.

“I’m just trying to save my marriage,” he says like chucking his previous life in the bin and moving down here is nothing to be impressed with. Because it’s not, if you know Robert even a little bit. 

“Don’t tell mom. Please?” he says, and Cain gets this sly grin on his face at that. 

“Like I’d wanna give her any more ammo. Naw. Reckon I’d rather see how this plays out in the natural.”

And that is enough of that. 

They’re watching the movie later, just how they said, when Aaron pulls out his phone to check his email, eight p.m. like clockwork. 

He scrolls lazily through his emails, his attention half on the TV, until he finds the one he’s looking for. And he’s grown so used to getting denied that he finds himself staring for way too long like an idiot when he reads: 

**_Visitation: Accepted_ **

It’s like he’s melting. Like the sofa is turning to liquid and Aaron is melting _right down into the cushions._ His limbs going slack, his mind going blank, as those two perfect words cycle across his vision. 

_Visitation: Accepted. Visitation: Accepted. Visitation: Accepted._

“You just wet your pants or summat?” Cain asks, his voice tinny, like an echo as Aaron turns his head to look at him. 

“You what?” 

Cain waves his hand at him, encompasses the entirety of Aaron’s body when he replies, “You. You look all… relaxed or summat. It’s weird.”

“He said yes,” Aaron explains, but now it’s his voice’s turn to echo, the sound of it pinballing inside his brain as Cain continues to look at him in confusion. 

“Care to repeat that? I couldn’t hear you over the gunfire.”

Aaron laughs. Hysterically. The feel of it all just bubbling out of him as he leans across the sofa, grabs Cain’s shoulders, and laughs in his face. 

“He said yes!” he shouts even though Cain is only a foot away. “Robert said yes! He said yes!” 

He gets to his feet at that, begins pacing the room like mad, back and forth and back and forth until Cain finally stops his movement. 

“That’s great, lad, but would you mind keeping it down a little bit? I’m trying to watch a movie here?” 

There’s a smile on his lips when he says it, something almost triumphant in Cain’s eyes that Aaron can feel slithering through his own veins right now because _this,_ this is a start. This is a _chance._ And there’s no way in hell that Aaron’s gonna blow it. 

~*~

**_1 February 2020_ **

The next morning, Aaron comes downstairs to find Cain packing up his stuff. 

“What’s going on?” Aaron asks through a yawn, but he already knows the answer to his question. He thinks he knew it that first day they got here, in fact. 

This is what Cain was waiting for. 

They eat brekkie in silence, spend the whole morning that way, in fact, watching telly and just _existing_ next to each other before Cain finally says, “Best be getting on the road before it gets too busy.” 

It’s a Saturday. It’s _all_ going to be busy. But Aaron knows what he means anyway. 

“What are you gonna tell my mum?” Aaron asks as he hefts Cain’s giant bag into the boot of his BMW before shutting it and leaning against it. 

Cain squints up into the sun and smiles before turning his glance to Aaron and saying, “That you know what you’re doing.” 

He’d hug Cain for that if they were the type to hug more than once a decade. 

“Go get your husband back, yeah?” Cain orders as he slides into the driver’s seat. 

Aaron shoves his hands into his pockets, nods his head and says confidently, “I will.” 

“And if you ever tell a soul that I said that, I’ll have your guts for garters, alright sunshine?” 

Aaron salutes him, mostly because he knows Cain will hate it. 

“You should stop at the Mill for a while. There’s plenty of room going,” Aaron squeaks in before Cain can close his door. 

Cain raises an eyebrow at him. “Why? ‘Cause you want me to look after Liv? ‘Cause I already said I would.”

“No, I just thought… it might be a nice change of pace for you. Considering.”

_Considering Moira,_ Aaron thinks. _Considering the mess your life has become, just like mine._ But he doesn’t say anything like that, mostly because he’s sure Cain already knows that’s why. The same way Aaron knows he wasn’t staying down here just so he could keep an eye on Aaron. 

“I’ll take that into consideration,” Cain replies stoically. “See you around, kid.” And with that, he’s closing the door and driving away. 

Which leaves Aaron alone, _truly_ alone for the first time pretty much ever. Away from his family, away from familiarity, away from everything that counts except the one thing that counts the most. 

“What the hell am I doing?” he asks as he turns around and looks back up at his house. 

But the only words that come back to him are _the right thing._


	3. Early February 2020

**31 January 2020**

Robert is pacing. It’s this amazing new hobby he’s picked up. See, what he does is he walks quickly across the nine-foot length of his cell, makes a precise one hundred and eighty degree turn just before he smacks into the concrete wall, then returns to the other side of the cell just as speedily. It’s not exactly reinventing the wheel, but it helps. 

Usually, if he does this a dozen or so times without break, whatever stress he’s trying to work through diminishes by at least a few degrees. But this morning, it doesn’t seem to be working. 

He shouldn’t have done it. He should _never_ have done it. 

He’s well into his fiftieth round of pacing when his cellmate, Vin, returns from the showers, his gray hair dripping streaks down the front of his forest green, prison-issued jumper, his hazel eyes still bright and youthful despite the fact that he’s ticking over into his sixties.

“If you’re trying to wear a hole through the floor, I feel the need to remind you that we’re on the second level. The only place you’ll be escaping is into Big Benny’s cell below.” 

“Very funny,” Robert remarks drily, a common reaction to the ribbing Vin usually gives him over his new pastime.

Vin laughs, then takes a seat on his bottom bunk, the slight groan escaping him when he bends over the only indication he ever gives of his age. 

“What have you done now?” he asks, his tone indicating that he actually cares about Robert’s response to his question. Which is a strange thing to him, even three months down the line. 

The first thing Vin had said to him when Robert was a fresh inmate here at Parkhurst was, “This is your lucky day, son. Getting me as your cellie is like winning the bloody lottery.” 

He’d gone on to explain that he was the one person in the prison capable of getting an inmate whatever they needed, barring drugs and weapons, of course. That job belongs to someone else. 

Robert had, cheekily, asked if he could get him a Rita Hayworth poster, thankfully Vin had been a Shawshank fan, and the pair of them have been mates ever since. 

It’s good to have a mate here, even if it’s just the one, and even if that one is almost to his thirtieth year inside for brutally killing the man who’d been shagging his wife. 

He’s a good bloke, though, beyond all of that. Not like Robert can judge someone for murder anyhow. But right now he’s looking up at Robert like he’s actually concerned over why he’s pacing the floor like he’s got a vendetta against it. 

“I said yes,” he says as he passes Vin yet again, his energy boiling over to the point that he doesn’t think he’d be able to stop pacing even if he tried. 

“To your hubby?” Vin asks, a touch of excitement in his voice. And the only thing Robert can do is nod in response. 

“He’s been sendin’ ya visitation requests every day for _months_ now. What was so special about this one?” 

“I got to thinking,” Robert starts, ignoring Vin’s mumbled, “Always dangerous,” before carrying on with his explanation. 

“What if something had happened? What if something was wrong back home? With Vic and the baby? Or with Seb? What if they were trying to send Aaron to tell me and I was just putting off the inevitable bad news by saying no?” 

He stops for a second, runs his fingers through his hair a few times and looks to Vin like he’s expecting some sort of grand insight into his own thought process. 

“I’m sure that’s the reason, alright,” Vin says with a slick smile on his face. And for not the first time since he’s met him, Robert wants to punch that smile right off of him. 

Just because they’re mates, doesn’t mean Vin doesn’t deserve a good decking every now and again. 

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, resuming his exercise routine as he continues running his fingers through his hair until it’s probably sticking up in a hundred different directions. 

“You don’t think that maybe… just _maybe…_ you actually wanna see ‘im?”

“I sent him divorce papers, Vin. I let him go.” 

“Right,” Vin says with a nod. “Like it’s just that easy, is it?” 

Robert stops again, stares at Vin like he’s hoping he might develop laser eyes sometime in the next minute or two. But when he doesn’t, all he’s left with is what Vin proposed. 

It’s why he mutters, “Nothing’s ever that easy with Aaron,” and starts out pacing again, because it’s true. 

There has never been a single day since they met where things have been easy. 

~*~

**5 February 2020**

“You look like you’re gonna vomit,” Vin says as he returns from lunch much later than Robert had because Robert, unironically, also _feels_ like he’s going to vomit. 

He’s not pacing this time. His legs are too full of jelly to be able to do that right now. So he’s just been sat here for the past twenty minutes on Vin’s bed with his elbows on his thighs and his head buried in his hands. 

This was a mistake, wasn’t it? It has to be a _mistake._

“Thanks for that,” Robert groans in response to Vin’s very astute observation about the current state of Robert’s health and well being. 

“No, this is what you should be thanking me for,” Vin replies cheerily. “Got you a little pressie.” 

He drops a bag in Robert’s lap at that, one that, upon closer inspection, contains…

“Pomade?” 

“Yeah, pomade. I asked my contacts for the ponciest hair product they had and this is what they came up with.”

“But,” Robert starts as he rolls the jar of pomade between his fingers, tracing over the unfamiliar brand name before opening the jar and smelling its contents. 

“But why?” Vin asks as Robert continues to breathe in the smell, something so close to his past, to _home_ that he can’t tell if he’s happy or sick with it. 

“You’re seeing your hubby today, ain’t ya? Don’t wanna go into that lookin’ like a wet poodle. Gotta look your best there, Robert. Even if it’s only just the one visit, you wanna make him leave wantin’ more. See what he’s missin’.” 

Robert chokes out a laugh at that, at the sheer notion that he could impress Aaron from inside a place like this. Like he even _needs_ to impress Aaron when he’s seen him at his very worst, sucking oxygen in a hospital bed and looking half fitted for death. 

“He’s not missing anything,” he says miserably, fully ensconced as he is in his one man pity party. 

“Not with that attitude he ain’t!” Vin exclaims with a slap on Robert’s back. 

“Look, you still love ‘im, don’t ya?” Vin continues when Robert’s spent a sufficient amount of time staring into the jar of pomade like it holds all the secrets of the universe. 

“That was never in question.”

“Then get off your arse, fix your hair, and spend the next hour staring longingly into your lover’s eyes or whatever.”

“Or whatever?” Robert asks with another laugh. “Real romantic, that is.” 

“I’m not the one s’posed to be romantic today, lover boy. Now get on with it, will ya. The smell of that stuff is makin’ me wanna lose me lunch.” 

“Thank you,” Robert says, from the bottom of his heart _or whatever._ And then he gets to his feet, makes his way to their tiny little excuse for a mirror, and fixes his bloody hair. Because he’s seeing his hubby today, after all. So he might as well dress to impress. 

~*~

The line to get into the visiting room seems to take interminably long, endless minutes that Robert spends picking imaginary lint off his jumper as he listens to his erratic heartbeat thump in his ears. 

Aaron is here. _Aaron is here,_ right now, in this room somewhere, waiting to see him. And sure, Aaron’s been sending requests for months now, but Robert had never allowed himself to imagine his actual _presence_ until this very moment. 

Aaron is here, and Robert alternately wants to crawl into a hole and die and crawl into _Aaron_ and wear him like a suit.

Needless to say, his mind is a little all over the place today. 

He spots him immediately upon entering the room. Robert would know Aaron anywhere, even if he’s only given the top of Aaron’s head like he is now. There are still so many things that can be taken from that image as Robert makes his way slowly across the room like he’s walking neck deep in water. 

His hair is longer, for instance. Robert’s is too, but the picture Robert has stuck in his head from their last prison visit makes Aaron’s curlier hair a shock to his system, along with the navy blue jumper Robert’s certain he’s never seen before like this is a new Aaron somehow. One that maybe doesn’t belong to Robert anymore. 

One that maybe never did. 

His fingers shake as he pulls his chair out from the table, but the only awareness Aaron shows of his presence is the slight tightening of his shoulder blades. His hands are still folded in front of him on the table, his head is still tilted downward, hiding everything Robert longs to see. 

Blue eyes, soft lips, that bloody perfect, straight nose, _blue eyes blue eyes blue eyes,_ Robert just wants to see him, even if it’s only for a second before Aaron inevitably either storms out of the room in anger or tells him some life-altering, devastating news. 

They sit like that for long, aching minutes, each one ticking away another chance that Robert won’t have to tell Aaron he’s sorry. That he loves him. Or maybe that he doesn’t. That he should never come back. Robert doesn’t even _know_ what he’s _feeling_ right now because Aaron won’t look at him and it comes to him, eventually, that he’s going to have to be the brave one here. 

So he takes a deep breath, holds it for a long moment, then says, “Aaron, look at me.” 

Aaron starts shaking his head at that, and at least it’s movement, at least it’s _something._ But he’s saying _no,_ first with his head and then with his voice as he says, “No, because if I look at ya, I’m either gonna wanna kiss ya or deck ya, and I’m not allowed to do either one of them in here.” 

Robert smiles at that, at how very _Aaron_ that statement is. But it doesn’t solve any of their problems here, so Robert tries again. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, perhaps the truest words he’s ever spoken. 

Aaron’s head shoots up at that, but it’s not forgiveness in those blue, blue eyes. It’s not joy or love or pain, it’s _anger._ The raw kind of anger Robert’s thankfully only seen a handful of times in his life. 

“For what?” Aaron asks bitterly. “Killing Lee? Turning yourself in? Trying to flipping divorce me? Come on, Robert, tell me what you’re sorry for.” 

Robert shrugs, feels the tears stinging his eyes already as he says, simply, “All of it,” because he is. He doesn’t regret a single thing - in every second of it, he believed he was doing right - but that doesn’t mean he can’t feel sorry for how deeply it’s hurt Aaron. 

“Well, I don’t want your sorry,” Aaron hisses as he leans over the table. “I want an explanation.” 

“For what?” Robert asks, honestly stumped. 

“For this,” Aaron says as he removes a slip of paper from his pocket and slams it on the table, making Robert jump. 

He doesn’t need to read it to know what it is. He doesn’t even need to _look at it_ to know what it is. And so he just keeps his eyes locked on Aaron’s when Aaron adds, “What the hell did you think was gonna happen?” 

“Honestly?” Robert asks, and he takes it as a small miracle that Aaron doesn’t laugh at that word coming out of his mouth. “That you’d sign the papers and move on. Be happy.” 

The _without me_ is understood. 

Aaron barks out a laugh at that before sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest, closing himself off even further. “Clearly you don’t know me at all if you thought that was possible.”

“Aaron,” Robert tries, but like he’s on some sort of pulley system, Aaron shoots forward again, pointing a sharp finger directly at Robert’s face when he says, “You’re just lucky we’re in here and not out there, you know that? Otherwise I’d… well, I’d probably do something else actually because you’d be _free_ and that would be amazing, but my point is you should be getting it a lot worse here, mate.” 

“I know,” Robert says, and something like pain, like _remorse_ flashes across Aaron’s face at that before he doubles down on his anger and says, “You know what? Because you can’t just throw me away like I’m nothing, Robert. You can’t just do that to people you… people you say you love.” 

“You think that’s what this was?” Robert asks, hissing himself as he leans over the table so that he and Aaron are a mere foot or so apart. 

He can smell Aaron’s breath from here, the mouthwash he likes, the coffee he drank on the way over, and he’s dizzy from it all. Dizzy from the _closeness_ and from the desire to just close the gap like so many times before, pull Aaron into his arms and claim his lips over and over and over again. 

“Then what was it?” Aaron asks, the anger bleeding now into something more painful, something that stabs Robert in the chest more surely than any knife. 

“I did it _because_ I love you.”

Aaron shakes his head, harder this time. “No, if you loved me, you’d fight for me. You’d fight for _us.”_

“But you don’t deserve this, Aaron,” Robert says, looking down at the table, at how close their hands are to touching because he can’t look in Aaron’s eyes and tell him goodbye again. 

“You don’t deserve to be saddled with me. You deserve to be out there, living your life. Not… not chained to someone that isn’t going anywhere anymore.” 

The last part is quieter, shakier. But something about his tone must make Aaron act, because he stretches out a single finger as soon as Robert shuts his mouth, curling it around one of Robert’s and just holding it there. 

“Oh, pull the other one, Robert,” he says, counteracting any comfort his gesture implied. “It’s not like you’re gonna be in here forever.” 

“But I could be in here for _fourteen years,_ Aaron. And I don’t think you’ve fully grasped what that actually means.” 

Aaron makes a rude _pfft_ sound before saying, “You once told me that you didn’t come looking for me,” his voice strong now, strong enough to make Robert look up again. “That you met me and I changed everything. Well _you_ changed everything too, Robert. You think… you think I’m gonna want this other life, that I’m gonna want other people, but I’m not. You didn’t and I won’t either.” 

“This is different and you know it, Aaron,” Robert tries as Aaron’s foot slips alongside his under the table, the gentle pressure of it sending static up Robert’s spine. 

“You were only in for a couple months. I could be here for a decade and a half.”

“I don’t care,” Aaron says adamantly as he grips all of his fingers around Robert’s now. “All you have to do is trust me, Robert. Trust _us._ Just… just have a little faith.” 

Robert laughs at that, thinks about pulling his fingers away, moving his foot, but his body is just frozen right now, stuck to Aaron’s like glue, just like always. 

“As if that’s all it’ll take. What… Aaron, what does faith even look like?” 

Aaron smiles like that, a soft, small one that still manages to light up his eyes as he uses his free hand to reach back into his pocket and pull out a photo of a house Robert’s never seen before in his life and says, “It looks like this.” 

“What’s that?” Robert asks through the lump in his throat. 

“It’s my new house.” 

Something sinks in Robert’s body when Aaron says that, something like grief as he thinks of Aaron leaving the Mill, the home he built for him, like it’s nothing. 

He dreamed of going back there someday. Even though he tried to give Aaron up, with obvious mixed results, there was still a part of him that thought that when he walked out of here, the Mill would be waiting for him, even if Aaron wasn’t. But now…

“Ask where it is,” Aaron says with a tug on Robert’s hand, and his mood… it just doesn’t make sense here. He’s too… happy. Too _content,_ at least. And so Robert humours him. 

“Where is it?” 

Aaron leans in closer, squeezes Robert’s fingers harder and says, “A couple miles from this place’s front door.” 

Robert freezes. Everything inside of him just _freezes,_ his eyes now positively pooling with tears as he studies every inch of Aaron’s face he can see to look for the lie that just isn’t there. 

“What… why….”

“Why did I do it?” Aaron asks, filling in the blanks because he must know Robert can’t right now. “Because you don’t get to tell me when it’s time to let you go. I make that decision, Robert. I do. And I made it the day we said our vows to each other, _both_ times. I’m not letting you get rid of me. See me or not, I’m staying right here.” 

“Aaron,” Robert tries, but Aaron just keeps going. His voice getting increasingly more animated when he says, “You filed for divorce. I need you to tell me that’s not what you want.”

“Aaron-”

“I need you to tell me you still want me,” he interrupts again, his voice so bare, so raw as his eyes glisten with tears as well that it cuts down to Robert’s bones. 

He knows he should lie. He knows he should let him go. But he’s weak, so he says, “Of course I still want you, you idiot. I’ll always want you. But in the middle of all this, it wouldn’t be fair on you.”

The words echo back to him, rolling down the years from a black night in the middle of York, back when he promised Aaron he’d wait for him. And maybe that’s what Aaron’s trying to do here, tell Robert he’ll wait. But how can Robert let him, knowing what he knows? 

So he says, “It wouldn’t be fair,” again and hopes that Aaron understands what he means. 

Aaron only smiles at that, though, a bigger one this time, beaming on his face as he says, “I’m deciding what’s fair on me this time.”

“But what about your family? Do you really expect me to believe they’re okay with this?” Robert tries as a last ditch effort, on the off chance that Aaron hasn’t actually thought through every inch of this the way he seems to have. 

“Of course they’re not okay with this,” Aaron says almost… _breezily._ “My mum alone’s been peckin’ me head for a month now, ever since I told her. But I don’t care, Robert.” He squeezes Robert’s hand even harder, something Robert thought was impossible up until this point. 

“I don’t care what any of them think. All I care about is _us,_ which is why I’m gonna tell you what _you’re_ gonna do.” 

He flips Robert’s hand over at that, holds him more forcefully as he says, “You’re gonna accept my visiting orders. _All of them._ You’re gonna let me come twice a week to see ya, you’re gonna call me every night at your earliest convenience, and we’re gonna make this work, Robert, or so help me-”

“Aaron,” he interrupts as the tears begin to escape his eyes, cut tracks that burn down his face. 

He interrupts Aaron because he feels like he has to, like he needs to make Aaron see what he’s giving up to do this. But Aaron just shakes his head, just as forcefully as before, this time pulling a chain out from around his neck. 

It’s got two rings on it, _their_ rings, one of which Aaron takes off and puts on his own finger right in front of Robert’s gobsmacked face. 

“When you get out, I’m putting this back on your finger,” Aaron says before he tucks Robert’s ring back inside his jumper. “Until then, I’ll keep it safe.” 

The alarm goes off at that moment, indicating that their visit is done. And all of a sudden Robert feels desperate not to let Aaron go. Not because he’s afraid he’ll never see him again, but because he’s afraid he _will._

“I wish I could hug you,” Aaron says quietly as all the other visitors get up to hug their loved ones goodbye. 

He’s got his head tipped down, his eyes gazing up. And he looks so unbelievably beautiful that Robert is on his feet in a heartbeat, dragging Aaron to his and pulling him inside the safe circle of his arms. 

“I’m in for murder,” he says into the soft skin of Aaron’s neck, breathing in the cologne that he knows Aaron only wears for special occasions. “What do I care what they think of me?” 

“Please be careful,” Aaron begs in return, his arms so tight around Robert’s back that they might crack ribs if he’s not careful. 

“I will,” he replies as their bodies continue to form to one another, the hills and valleys of them that have always fit together like puzzle pieces, the tiny and intricate ones that couldn’t possibly fit with anything, with _anyone_ else. 

“I love you, Aaron, okay? And I’m so-”

“Don’t apologize anymore,” Aaron interrupts as he fists his hands in the back of Robert’s jumper and presses his lips to Robert’s ear. “We’re done with that.” 

And as the alarm buzzes again and Robert is finally forced to let Aaron go, he finds himself believing that. 

He finds himself believing _a lot_ of things he didn’t dare hope to believe before. 

~*~

Robert is a mess by the time he gets back to his cell, his face sticky with tears, his body shaking, _aching_ in all the places it had just touched Aaron’s. He’s so overwhelmed, in fact, that when he sees a stranger sitting on Vin’s bed his first instinct is to lean back and check the cell number, make sure he’s in the right place. 

“My name’s Danny MacFarlane,” the man says once Robert confirms that this is, in fact, his and Vin’s cell. “We’ve never met, but you’re Robert Sugden.” 

“Dingle,” he says proudly, straightening his posture and sticking his chest out because he’s not sure why this Danny is here, but given that he’s a MacFarlane, it can’t be good. 

Robert knows of them, from Aaron’s stories when he was young and from that psycho Syd that had kidnapped Aaron. And so really, he doesn’t need to know anymore. 

“Sugden-Dingle,” he adds just to really hammer the point home because after what just happened in the visiting room, after the way Aaron _fought for him,_ there’s no way he’s denying him now. 

“You’re a Dingle?” Danny says as he leans back onto his hands, dragging his eyes assessingly over Robert’s entire body. 

“Through marriage.” 

“To that bloke,” Danny fires back. “The one you were all over in visitation just now.” 

Robert freezes at that, at the very real possibility that he’s about to get bashed, his breath held so tightly in his lungs they ache. 

“You gay?” Danny asks. 

He tries to read Danny’s face, tries to weigh up if he should bother lying. But he doesn’t feel like lying anymore, not when he can still smell Aaron’s cologne on his own body. So he says, “I’m bisexual, actually, and if you must know that _bloke_ is my husband. Are you going to kick my head in now?”

Danny scrunches his eyes down at him, looks for all the world like he’s got no idea what Robert’s on about before he says, “No reason to, as far as I can see. I just like to know what’s going on in my prison. And as long as what _you_ like to do doesn’t get in the way of what _I_ like to do, we’ll be fine.” 

He gets up at that, walks over to Robert and claps a hand on his shoulder before saying, “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Sugden-Dingle.” And with that, he’s just gone. 

Robert doesn’t have time to think about the strangeness of the encounter before Vin is heading into their cell, his eyes bugging out a bit as he asks, “Are you alright?” like he’s actually concerned that Robert _isn’t._

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“You do know who that is, right?” Vin asks, all cryptic-like. To which Robert just shakes his head. 

“Danny MacFarlane, he said, but that’s all I got out of him.”

Vin moves over to the bed, crouches down like always and plants himself on his perch before saying, “He’s the new top dog around here is what he is.”

“You what?” 

Vin nods. “Only been on the Isle for a few weeks and he’s already put the _last_ top dog in hospital. They’re saying he’s paralyzed, waist down, probably won’t be back on the block any time soon if ever. That boy… he is not to be trifled with.” 

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t planning on it,” Robert says, patently refusing to let fear creep in now, take over the much better, happier emotions he’s still got thrumming through his veins. 

Vin seems to sense that, Robert’s need to move on to brighter subjects, so he says, all excitedly, “So tell me, how’d the visit go?” 

“I hugged him!” Robert exclaims giddily as warmth presses through his body at the mere idea of Aaron, wrapped in his arms. 

“He told me he loved me and he was sticking around, that he was _fighting for me,_ and I got to hug him, Vin. He still… he still smells the same as he used to. Uses the same cologne his mum got him for Christmas a few years back and the same cheap tat in the shower underneath. And it was… it was _perfect._ He was perfect.” 

“And he just forgave you? Like that?” Vin asks in a tone that says he doesn’t quite believe it’s possible. 

“Oh no! He gave me hell for it, but only for leaving him, for trying to divorce him n’all. He didn’t seem all that bothered by the rest. It was incredible! Every excuse I had for why he should leave me he just batted right back at me. He… he loves me, Vin. He _really_ loves me.” 

“Why do you sound so surprised?” Vin asks, and the question, it makes something cold slither up Robert’s spine. 

“Because I am,” he says, shamefully. “Because I’m not used to this kind of loyalty.” He pauses, then adds, “Well from Aaron I am, I guess. But just… from everyone else. It’s hard… hard to believe it’s real. But I should know better with him. He’s been the only one… the _only one_ that’s always been there for me. And I don’t… I don’t know why I ever doubted it.” 

“Sounds like it was a good visit then,” Vin says softly, his eyes practically sparkling in a way that makes Robert blush. 

“Did I tell you how amazing he was?” he asks, still as giddy as a child. 

“You did. Multiple times. And we’ve only been talking for a few minutes. You must have a four-leaf clover shoved up your arse, my friend.” 

Vin laughs at his own statement, making Robert laugh as well as he replies, “I must,” because it’s true. He’s lucky. So flaming _lucky._ And he’s going to do his best never to take that for granted again. 


	4. Mid February 2020

**8 February 2020**

Aaron was ready for their first meeting. After all, he’d had months to prepare for it, right? To write and rewrite and then rewrite again a list of all the things he wanted to say to Robert, _demand_ of him… beg of him, really. A list he’d almost had laminated right before their visit to keep himself from tinkering with it any further. 

He’d been prepared, is his point. But in the three days between his first visit with Robert and his second, Aaron had done nothing. He’d worked at the garage, bantered with Reese, talked to his mum and Liv on the phone, ate more pizza than any single human ever should, but other than that… nothing. 

Which is probably why he’s sitting in the visitor’s room now with his leg bouncing uncontrollably under the table and his fingers drumming mercilessly atop it. Because in all honesty, he didn’t think he’d get this far. And apparently, if his mind couldn’t conceive of a second visit, it couldn’t plan a single thing to say during it to the flaming love of his life that’s about to walk through that door any second. 

He just wants to see him, to trace the lines of his face, the hard jaw and cheekbones, the soft swell of his brow. He wants to look into those green eyes, count the spattering of those gorgeous freckles, and see for himself that he didn’t dream their last visit. That it was real, that _Robert_ was real. And that he hasn’t lost him after all. 

He pops out of his chair like he’s on a spring as soon as the prisoners begin to make their way into the room. Everyone else remains seated, of course, because they’re not complete weirdos. And Aaron is about to sit his insane arse back down when he sees him. 

He looks exactly the same as he did three days ago. Which… _duh,_ of course he does. He’s been banged up 24/7. Why would he look any different? But it still shocks him somehow that every single inch of him is exactly the same down to the forest green jumper that he remembers bringing out the colour of Robert’s eyes. 

Aaron is wearing his purple hoodie today. He couldn’t justify buying a second new jumper like the one he’d worn last time, desperate to impress like the color of Aaron’s top would be able to convince Robert to keep seeing him. He knows Robert likes the purple hoodie, though. He’s stolen it enough times on lazy Sundays for Aaron to gather that. 

He wonders if there will ever come a day where he won’t spend at least twenty minutes in front of his bedroom mirror trying to suss out what to wear to these meetings. He hopes there does. Because that’ll mean they’ve been going on for ages, that Robert has let him come _for ages._ And as far as life goals are concerned, that’s his number one priority these days. 

Robert smiles at him once he reaches the table, laughs a little under his breath and nods for Aaron to take his seat. And Aaron finds himself sitting down just as quickly as he’d stood up, his chair screeching loudly as it scrapes along the floor, drawing even more attention to them that Robert doesn’t even seem to bat an eye at.

He’s just staring at Aaron, his eyes roving over Aaron’s face, taking in every single part of it before they settle on Aaron’s lips for an unbearably long time. 

Aaron pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, watches Robert’s eyes widen at the gesture, and suddenly every single part of Aaron’s body aches for Robert. For his touch, his weight, the feel of his skin against Aaron’s. He wants it all, wants every single bit of it only… only he can’t. _They_ can’t. Not for _years,_ which is just a thought that Aaron can’t deal with now. 

As if he’s come to the same conclusion, Robert’s eyes trail up to his, the smile on his face a little sadder now as he says, “You came back,” like there was ever an actual chance that Aaron wouldn’t. 

Aaron shrugs. “You let me.” 

“I thought I’d dreamt it,” Robert continues, the smile something wistful now, like he’s caught in a dream that never existed. 

And it makes Aaron smile a little as well as he says, “I’d convinced myself I had as well. But here you are.” 

_Here he is._

“You didn’t call,” Aaron continues once they’ve sat there for almost a full minute in silence, just staring at each other. 

He might as well get the “bad” out of the way first, and so calling Robert on the fact that he didn’t telephone like he promised seems about par for the course. 

Robert looks shy all of a sudden, his head tipped down and his eyes gazing up guiltily as he says, “I wasn’t sure if you were serious about that, and I didn’t want to bother you if you were busy.”

Aaron takes a deep breath, exhales it on a sigh before saying, “Robert, when I say I wanna talk to you every day, I mean I wanna talk to you _every day._ Wherever I am, whatever I’m doing, you’re more important, okay?” 

He looks a little shocked at Aaron’s words, his face more visible now as his eyes widen again, this time for an entirely different reason. His voice quieter than it was before when he smiles and lets out a cheeky little, “Yes, boss,” that lands somewhere in the center of Aaron’s gut. 

Fuck, he loves him. And the sheer _thought_ that he could ever love someone else is just ridiculous to him. 

He’s never loved anyone like this before, and he’s certain that he’d never be able to again. So Robert better just keep up his end of the vows and stay with him, for better or for _worse,_ because nothing is ever gonna make Aaron let go of him. 

“So,” Robert says after another round of The Staring Game. 

“So,” Aaron replies. And he really wishes he had a list on him this time, because every single talking point he may have had has been forgotten in the pink of Robert’s lips. 

Robert leans forward a few seconds later, folding his hands together in front of him as he says, “This is ludicrous. Since when have the pair of us not had something to talk about, eh?”

Aaron smiles, the kind of one that warms him from head to foot as he mirrors Robert’s pose, bringing them so close that Aaron can smell the product in Robert’s hair. “So what do you wanna talk about then? The weather?” 

Robert laughs, a soft one that makes his skin seem to glow. And Aaron would literally give anything right now to be able to trail his fingers up Robert’s cheek, fist his hand in Robert’s hair. Kiss him…

How in the fuck is he going to go fourteen years without being able to kiss him?

“How about your job,” Robert says in counterpoint to Aaron’s suggestion about the weather. “What are you doing these days? Other than living off your vast stores of wealth, of course.” 

“I’m a mechanic again,” he says proudly because in all the things they _don’t_ have in common, this was always one big one that they did. 

He used to love it, in the early days before the scrapyard, working at the garage and imagining Robert having worked there as well. In that space that became so much to them over the years, so deeply ingrained into every part of who they were. 

“You in overalls, eh? I think I’m going to need a photo of that.” 

“You really think that’s a good idea?” Aaron asks, his voice lower now as he leans further across the table so that Robert can hear him. “How are you gonna explain why you’ve got a picture of a bloke in your cell?” 

Robert reaches a finger out, dragging the back of his nail across Aaron’s knuckles as he says, “Aaron, the last time you were here, I might as well have dropped to one knee and professed my undying love to you. Everyone knows by now.” 

A spike of fear races up Aaron’s spine, leaving his body cold as he stutters out, “W-what?”

“It’s okay,” Robert replies, though when he tries to take Aaron’s hand in his own, Aaron’s instinct forces him to pull back. 

Robert’s face falls at that, and Aaron would really like to fix that problem only there’s a _bigger_ problem here. One that revolves around an entire prison knowing that Aaron’s husband likes to have sex with men. 

“It really is alright,” Robert says a little too calmly for Aaron’s liking. “I even had a visit from the prison’s new top dog and he didn’t seem to care one way or another.”

“Top… top dog?” Aaron chokes out, the panic starting to get the better of him now, causing his breaths to thin and his extremities to tingle. 

“Yeah, my version of Jason you could say. Though mine’s a MacFarlane.”

Aaron chokes out a hysterical laugh as he leans back in so as not to be heard. “Jesus, Robert, a MacFarlane? And you think you’re _not_ in danger?”

Robert literally waves him off like this is nothing. “It’s fine, Aaron. Not everyone is a homophobe, I guess.”

“You guess?” Aaron asks, before hissing, “You guess?! What exactly did he say to you, this MacFarlane?” 

“Nothing much. Just that as long as I didn’t get in his way, he wouldn’t get in mine,” Robert supplies simply, like _simple_ is in any way what this is. 

And Aaron… well, he could basically throttle Robert right now as he replies, “And you _don’t_ think that sounded like a threat?” 

Robert rolls his eyes at him, which just goes to show that he’s learned absolutely nothing in his three months in prison. His voice more confident than it has any right to be when he says, “I think it sounded like one I could easily avoid.”

“Since when have you ever been good at staying out of people’s ways?”

“Oi, thanks for that. Please, Aaron, don’t be worried,” Robert says as he reaches out and finally takes Aaron’s hand in his, holding it tightly as Aaron tries to pull away. “I’ll be fine, I promise.” 

“You can’t promise that,” Aaron mutters, which only makes Robert squeeze his hand harder. 

“Aaron, as much as I hate to admit it, I’m going to be here a while. And if you’re serious about coming to visit me-”

“I am,” Aaron says forcefully, squeezing Robert’s hand right back. 

“Well then people were going to find out eventually, weren’t they? Better to rip the plaster off now as opposed to spending the next however many years trying to hide the one fact of my life I never want to hide again.” 

Robert reaches his other hand out at that, cups Aaron’s fist in his own and says, “Being with you, getting to love _you,_ is the one thing I’m most proud of in my entire life. And I don’t want to hide that anymore, okay? So just… trust me. You know I’m good at dodging trouble.” 

Aaron looks pointedly at the room around them before watching Robert smile in response. 

“Well, okay, there was that one bit of trouble they finally nicked me for. But other than that-”

“You’ll keep your head down?” Aaron asks, a bit embarrassed by how absolutely desperate he sounds. 

Robert nods emphatically. “I’ll keep my head down. Now, let’s get back to this mechanic job again. Tell me, what colour exactly are the overalls?” 

They talk about nothing and everything for the next thirty minutes or so, with Aaron catching Robert up on his new life on the Isle and Robert catching Aaron up on life with his cellmate Vin. And by the end of it, something settles inside of Aaron. Something that makes him think that maybe, just _maybe_ they’ll be able to do this. 

It’s a ridiculous feeling to have, this early on. There’s no way to know what the future holds, for Robert more than Aaron. But he guesses it’s just like one giant trust fall here, with both of them tipping back and hoping the other one will hold them up. 

“I’m not gonna be here for the next few visits,” Aaron says reluctantly once he sees they’ve only got a few minutes left. 

Robert looks crushed at that, an expression he does his best to hide as soon as it flashes across his face. But Aaron’s caught it - Aaron _always_ catches it - and so before Robert can convince himself that something’s wrong here, Aaron adds, “It’s Liv’s eighteenth and I promised I’d take her for a week away.”

“Where you taking her?” Robert rebounds with a smile and a look of pure relief. “No wait, don’t tell me, Ibiza?” 

“Ha, ha,” Aaron says before rubbing his hand over the back of his neck and saying, “But yeah, we’re going to Ibiza. And before you take the mick, I’ll have you know that there’s only about a minute or two left in this visit, so you should use them wisely.” 

For a second, another smile lights up Robert’s face, before what Aaron’s just said settles into them both and, like matching marionettes, their strings are suddenly cut. 

The buzzer goes off shortly thereafter, prompting them both to get to their feet. And even though Aaron is more worried this time - last time, he was too swept up to care - he still holds Robert tightly in his arms because if that’s all he’s gonna get, two hugs a week, he’s gonna milk them for all they’re worth. 

“This one went better, I reckon,” Aaron says as he presses his face into the crook of Robert’s neck and breathes in Robert’s scent, including the unfamiliar soap he uses now instead of his thirty quid’s worth of shower gel. 

Robert laughs at that, a short little burst of it before he says, “Yeah, because you didn’t spend half the time yelling at me.” 

“I didn’t yell at you,” Aaron replies, aghast. 

But Robert just holds him that much tighter. “It certainly felt like it.” 

With that, it’s time to go. 

“Remember, phone me!” Aaron calls out as Robert makes his way back across the visitation room. 

“I will,” Robert replies. And before either one of them can say another word, he’s gone. 

~*~

**16 February 2020**

“Surprise!” everyone yells as soon as Aaron and Liv walk into the Woolpack. 

They’re fresh off their trip, they _literally_ just dropped their bags at the Mill, so of course his mad family would have a surprise party waiting in the wings for an unsuspecting and exhausted Liv. 

Aaron had promised a quiet dinner at the pub. Fat chance of that happening. 

“I swear, I had nothing to do with this,” Aaron says out of the side of his mouth, leaning down so he can speak the words quietly to Liv alone. 

Liv looks up at him and, thankfully, smiles. “Yeah, like I’d think you’d have owt to do with a surprise party. You think I’m mental or summat?” 

Aaron pretends to ponder it for a moment before Liv punches him in the stomach quite a bit harder than she needs to in order to get her point across. He doesn’t get to say anything else, though, because by that point, his family has descended on the birthday girl. 

Aaron just moves out of the way and watches how they pick at Liv like vultures at a carcass. It’s amazing, really. 

At six o’clock sharp, Aaron sneaks away into the back room for Robert’s call. The ring of his phone coming precisely in time just like every day before it. 

By the end of their week abroad, Liv had seemed a touch annoyed with Aaron taking calls from Robert every single night. They even had to rearrange their plans around the calls a few times. 

But he’d told Liv at the out that he’d be giving up two visits for her birthday. And while he obviously felt she was worth it, he wasn’t gonna leave Robert completely alone for that stretch. Not so soon after Robert finally let him promise that he wouldn’t let go. 

He’s here now, doing it again. But at least this time Liv is being occupied by a gaggle of Dingles, the chants of “Drink from the wellie!” reaching his ears as he connects the call and waits for Robert’s voice to come down the line. 

“Hey,” Robert says, all soft and stupid. 

But Aaron isn’t much better when he grins like an idiot and says, “Hiya,” in the tone they used to use with each other only when they were trying to get the other into bed. 

It’s dumb. 

They’re dumb. 

Love is dumb. 

“So how was the flight?” Robert practically purrs once Aaron finishes blushing like a schoolgirl at the sound of his husband’s voice. 

“It was alright. Pretty quick and painless, really. How was movie night?” 

“The warden picked ‘Die Hard with a Vengeance’ in the end, so everyone seemed pleased.”

Aaron makes a _pfft_ sound. “Everyone seemed pleased, eh? Like you weren’t jumping in your seat.” 

“I prefer the classic ‘Die Hard’ to all of its sequels, Aaron. You know that,” Robert replies all studious like they’re talking about Shakespeare or summat and not a man who takes on terrorists at Christmas in his bare feet and a vest top. 

“Yeah, well, either way, at least you got popcorn. He did give you all popcorn, didn’t he?” 

“Yes, dad, the warden gave us all popcorn,” Robert says, and Aaron can just see him rolling his eyes at him. 

It makes his stomach feel all weird and tingly. 

Aaron is opening his mouth a second later, is about to say something no doubt scathing and sarcastic. But before he gets a chance, the door to the back room opens and his mum sticks her head in. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt, love, but someone’s here to see you,” she says, her eyes all dark and worried. 

“Can’t this wait?” he hisses, doing his best to cover up the microphone. “I’m on the phone with Robert.” 

“No, love, I don’t think it can wait,” she says as she widens the door to let Ross of all people into the back room. 

Scratch that: Ross and _Seb._

“Robert, I’m sorry but I’m gonna have to let you go. Something’s… something’s come up,” Aaron says like a robot as he stares blankly at where Ross and Seb’s hand are connected. 

“Is everything alright?” 

Robert sounds scared, it’s the only thing that shakes Aaron out of his stupor enough for him to say, calmly, “Of course everything is alright. Cain just slipped on some spilled beer and he’s gonna need a little help getting back to the Mill, that’s all.” 

He doesn’t know where the lie comes from, he’s just glad that it comes. 

“Right, yeah, we’ll talk tomorrow, though, right?” Robert replies, a little calmer than before but still with a tinge of fear in his voice that Aaron can’t stand. 

“Of course we’ll talk tomorrow. And I promise to be back home by then, zero distractions.” 

“I’ll hold you to that, Dingle,” Robert says. 

And Aaron shoots back immediately, “That’s Sugden-Dingle.” 

“It is, isn’t it?” Robert says almost dreamily. 

Aaron sighs. “It is.” 

They hang up another few seconds later after saying a proper goodbye, and as Aaron slides his phone back into his pocket, his heart begins to thud painfully in his chest. 

He doesn’t know what this is, what’s going on here, why Ross is here with Seb, where Rebecca is. But he can’t shake the feeling that something bad has happened. 

“Mum, would you give us a minute,” Aaron says with as much authority as he can muster as Ross and Seb settle on the sofa and his mum does her best to butt her way into the meeting. 

“But Aaron,” she begins, only Aaron just cuts her off. 

“I’m an adult, mum. I think I can handle… whatever this is on me own. Just go back to the party, okay?” 

She looks like she wants to argue. No, she looks like she wants to flat out ignore Aaron and plonk herself down on one of the kitchen chairs regardless of his wishes. But Aaron just straightens his posture and stares her down until she breathes out an annoyed little, “Fine,” and leaves the room. 

One problem solved…

“Not that it’s not great to see Seb n’all,” Aaron starts as he pulls a chair up to the coffee table, his eyes tracing all of Seb that he can see, looking for any differences since the last time he saw him. “But I thought Rebecca made it pretty clear that she didn’t want me in Seb’s life anymore, now that Robert is in prison. So what are you-”

“She’s dead,” Ross interrupts, his voice quiet as if he doesn’t want Seb to hear him even though he’s sitting _right there._

“What?” Aaron asks like an idiot because his mind is having trouble processing the words coming out of Ross’ mouth. 

Ross just turns his bloodshot eyes down to Seb before locking them back on Aaron’s when he says, “You heard.” 

“Ross, I’m so-”

“If you’re about to apologize, don’t,” Ross interrupts, clearly determined to have this conversation by his own rules. “You and me… that’s not us. And I didn’t come here for sympathy anyway. I came here to say… well… congrats, dad! It’s a boy!” 

Aaron… he just… there’s no…

“You what?” he asks, clamoring for anything to say right now, anything at all to overtake the buzzing in his ears. 

“I never adopted him or anything,” Ross says, his voice softer as he looks down at where Seb is playing with his stuffed dinosaur and runs his fingers gently through his hair. 

“Let’s face it, I was never really his dad. He was always yours and Robert’s and now… well, now things are just getting set right, aren’t they?” 

He looks up at Aaron at that, his eyes a bit redder than they were before. And Aaron’s never liked Ross. For most of his time knowing him, he’s actively hated him, in fact. But his heart still goes out to him right now because he _knows._

He knows exactly what it feels like to lose that little boy right there. 

“Ross, are you sure,” Aaron starts to ask, but he doesn’t get a chance to finish the question before Ross is talking again. 

His voice a fake sort of upbeat as he says, “We’ve moved him into a toddler bed. He’d been climbing out of his crib in the middle of the night, wandering around the flat, so be prepared for that.”

“Ross-”

“He’s really into avocados right now. Bex kept trying to get him to stop; she wanted him to have to work with his teeth n’all, so she’s been mixing cereal in with them. It’s pretty gross to look at, but he seems to love it.” 

“ _Ross-”_

“And he’s in a dinosaur phase, if you couldn’t tell. He’s got this stuffed one ‘ere that he sleeps with more than Teddy or that giraffe Robert gave ‘im. It’s getting pretty ragged, but he don’t seem to care.” 

“Ross!” Aaron finally yells, startling Seb in a way he didn’t want to. But it seems to snap Ross out of wherever the hell he was, which is good. 

It gives Aaron a chance to say, “Why are you doing this?” 

“Why am I doing what?” Ross asks with genuine confusion. 

“Why’d you bring him here? I never would’ve known… I never would’ve _known_ if you hadn’t have come here. You could’ve kept him.” 

It’s a horrible idea, one that makes Aaron sick to his stomach to think about, that the man who almost killed Robert could be the one solely raising his kid. But Ross seems… different. He seems like he _cares._ And so before he does what he’s pretty sure he’s about to do - can he really just take Seb like this? Is it even legal? - he needs to know that Ross isn’t gonna be a problem in the future. 

“Like I said,” Ross says with a flaming shrug. “He ain’t my kid. Never was. A kid deserves to be with their parents.” 

“His dad’s in prison, though,” Aaron says sadly as he lets himself look at Seb again, lets himself feel the greedy tug of _love_ he’s had for him ever since he and Robert got back together. 

“Not from where I’m sitting,” Ross says, and when Aaron looks back at him, he’s looking him dead in the eyes and his meaning is clear. 

Aaron is Seb’s dad. 

_Aaron is Seb’s dad._

“I brought down as much of his stuff as I could, but I had to leave the furniture behind. You’ve still got stuff at the Mill, yeah?” Ross asks, and Aaron just nods numbly at him and says, “The spare bedroom’s full of it.” 

They never had a chance to clean it out. To get rid of the memory of a child neither one of them thought they’d ever see again. 

“Good. If you don’t mind, I’d like to drop his stuff off now, get back on the road,” Ross says quietly, and yet again, Aaron is struck by how different he seems. 

He must have really loved her. He must have really loved _them._

He doesn’t push things, though. By asking how Rebecca died, for instance. There will be time for those things later. For now, the only thing that matters is Seb. 

~*~

He’s sitting in the spare room later that night, watching Seb sleep from his perch on the floor, trying not to think about how small he looks in the toddler bed he and Robert had set up months before he was arrested in preparation of Seb meeting that milestone. 

He hadn't cried when Ross left, he’d just let Ross hug him for a minute or two then took Aaron’s hand without it even needing to be offered like he understood exactly what was going on. 

He didn’t speak either. He hasn’t spoken since Ross’ arrival, in fact. But Aaron’s not gonna worry about that until tomorrow. Until it actually proves to be a problem. 

There’s a knock on the door a minute later, soft enough for him to hear it but quiet enough that it doesn’t wake Seb. And Aaron doesn’t even need one guess to know it’s his mother on the other side of that door, and to further know that if he doesn’t go out and talk to her now, she’ll just stand there until he does. 

“Sleep well, buddy,” he whispers as he leans down to kiss Seb’s forehead. And then he’s sneaking out of the room like he’s a teenager again. 

Or like he’s a parent. 

His mum is downstairs waiting for him, sipping a cup of tea at the dining table. And thankfully, it’s just her. 

He doesn’t want to have this conversation _at all,_ but it only would’ve been worse if Paddy and, god forbid, Liv were here. 

“Rebecca’s dead,” he says as he sits next to his mum and takes a sip of his tea, made just the way he likes it. 

His mum reaches out and rests a hand gently over his forearm. “I know, love. I caught up with Ross on his way out of the village. He filled me in.” 

“So you know I’m a dad now,” he says quietly, still so numb he can hardly handle it. 

“You were always a dad,” she tries to soothe, but Aaron just scoffs at her. 

“Not according to Rebecca I wasn’t. Guess I don’t need to worry about that now.”

“Sweetheart-”

“She’s dead, mum. She’s _dead._ Robert used to be so worried that Seb would grow up without a mum and what? She’s just gone?”

“It was a car accident, love. She didn’t really get much choice.”

There’s a lump in Aaron’s throat at that, at the idea of Rebecca dying in a car accident after all like some sort of messed up Final Destination deal. And he’s sick, deep inside his flipping soul he’s _sick_ because he’s happy about this. He can’t _wait_ to be Seb’s dad. But the only reason he’s got the chance is because Rebecca died in a flaming car accident. 

His joy is coming on the back of someone’s _death._ What sort of person does that make him? 

“I assume you’ll be coming back to the village,” his mum says after a moment of silence that gnaws at Aaron like a dog with a bone. 

“You what?” he asks, blinking back tears and holding his mug so tight his palm is burning. 

“Well, you can’t raise a child alone, can you? You have to come back.” 

Aaron laughs, a sharp bite of it first before it doubles down, turns to proper _laughter._ Because of course she’d use this as a way to get him back here. _Of course she would._

“I’m not coming back,” he says adamantly as soon as he manages to calm his laughter down. “I’ll be raising Seb on the Isle of Wight, down the road from his father, until whatever day Robert is released.” 

“You can’t be serious, love!” she practically shrieks. “You _cannot_ be serious. What do you know about raising a child?”

“I thought I was always a dad,” he says, tossing her words back in her face before getting up from his seat so he can pace off his energy in the hopes that he doesn’t use it to shake his mum senseless. 

“I did it for almost a year with him already,” he adds. “And there’s books, and people I can get to help. I won’t be alone.” 

“Aaron-”

“No! He’s my kid, mum.”

His mum levels him with a look so dark it actually makes him feel frozen solid when she says, “No, he’s Robert and Rebecca’s kid.” 

It hurts, Aaron’s not gonna lie. Hearing his mother say that _hurts,_ after all he went through with Seb when he was a baby. But in the end, none of it is unexpected, so he takes a deep breath, blinks back his tears, and says, “And you know that neither one of them is an option now. What do you think? He’s better off with Ross?” 

“Of course not, sweetie,” she says placatingly as if she didn’t just tell him he wasn’t Seb’s dad, getting to her feet as well so that she can reach out to grab Aaron’s hands. 

Aaron just pulls them right back. 

“I would never think he’d be better off with Ross,” she adds, her own eyes swimming with tears that Aaron just wants to slap off her face, manipulative as he knows they are. “I just think you’d be better off here.” 

“And I think you’d better leave,” he says, just as coldly as she’d done. 

“Aaron-”

“No!” he snaps again. “I want you to go. Now. And I want you to think about what you say the next time you see me, because if visits home are always gonna be like this, then I might just stay away entirely.” 

She looks like she’s been slapped after all, her hand rising to her chest, clutching her imaginary pearls as Aaron heads over to the door and opens it for her. Because right now, he only wants one thing. To be with his son. 

He spends the rest of the night in Seb’s room, curled up on the floor like he’s guarding him from intruders. He hears Liv come home, then Cain. Hears one or both of them hovering outside the door. But neither one decides to bother him, and for that, Aaron is grateful. 

It’s probably around eleven when he finally starts to drift off, but just before he falls properly asleep, he hears a noise from Seb’s bed. 

He sees Seb’s butt first, his legs dangling, his bare feet kicking around before he finally manages to slip down to a sitting position on the ground. And Aaron finds himself smiling at that, _laughing_ even as he remembers Ross saying why they moved him into the bed in the first place. 

He’s expecting Seb to go exploring, expecting him to cry, maybe, in a strange place. But all he does is turn around to face Aaron, his eyes heavy with sleep as he tilts his head at him, examining the situation before crawling over to where Aaron’s still curled up on the carpet. 

He pushes his way into Aaron’s arms, curls up right against his body, his head pressed to Aaron’s chest, right above his heart, and his little fists twisted in Aaron’s t-shirt. And like he was never awake at all, Seb is snoring lightly against Aaron’s chest a few moments later, just like his daddy used to. 

With that, the tears Aaron’s been holding in all day finally let go. 

~*~

**17 February 2020**

He’s packing up Seb’s stuff barely after sunrise the next morning in the hopes that none of his family catch him while he’s doing it. 

He’s still gonna say goodbye to all of them, he’s not stupid enough to skip that. An action like that would just get no less than a half dozen Dingles on his doorstep inside of a few days. But he wants to limit the amount of time he’ll have to speak with them as much as he can. Especially his mother. 

He’s expecting the offensive to come from the Woolpack, which is why he finds it odd that Liv is sitting next to a rather large holdall possibly stolen from Cain when Aaron comes in for his third trip. 

He’s packing up Robert’s car. It’s why he took a flight up to get Liv before their trip to Ibiza, so he could bring Robert’s car back and keep it safe in the garage at his new place. It’s not the biggest thing in the world, though, which means a few more trips and Aaron will be maxed out. 

“What are you doing up?” he asks quietly so as not to wake anyone else as he patently ignores the bag she’s now leaning against like it’s a part of the furniture. 

“I wanted to make sure you didn’t leave without me.” 

Of course. 

“My mum put you up to this?” he asks, trying to keep his tone as neutral as possible because, up until this point, Liv had been one of the few people on _his_ side, and he’d like to keep it that way. 

“No, I put me up to this, Aaron. I want to come back with you. To live.” 

“No,” he says, as simple as that, and hopes that she gets the picture. 

She looks like she’s about to cry. So she definitely didn’t get the picture. 

“What, you don’t want me there?” she asks with a quivering chin he swears she learned from Robert. 

“It’s not that I don’t want you there, Liv, it’s just… this is your home. You finally have a proper _home._ And I don’t want to take you away from that.” 

“But you’re gonna need help, with Seb,” she says almost excitedly, like _Free Childcare!_ is Aaron’s magical Achilles Heel. 

“I can sort childcare on me own, Liv. You’ve got school here. Family. Friends. _A home,_ like I pointed out before. You’re not coming with me.” 

She tips her head down at that, her voice so quiet he almost doesn’t hear her when she says, “But _you’re_ my home,” and Aaron...

He is so, _so_ tired. 

So he goes over to the coffee table, sits in front of her and takes one of her hands in his before he says, as gently as he can, “No I’m not. I’m your brother. And I love you, but I need to do this on my own. Do you get that?” 

She nods at him, her eyes filling with tears before she flings herself into his arms. Her voice wet from them as she says, “I just miss you being here, that’s all.” 

“I know, Liv, but you’ll get used to it,” he replies as he rubs her back gently. “We all will. This is just… it’s just the way it has to be.” 

He doesn’t say sorry. He’s tired of saying sorry for living his life the way he wants to. But he does hold her for a few more minutes, until the tears dry up. And then he goes back to loading up Robert’s car for the long journey home. 

~*~

The goodbyes went about as well as could be expected. Or at least no one tried to lock him in anywhere or tie him to any immovable objects, so Aaron is gonna take that as a win. Which just leaves Aaron with a six-hour drive with a two-and-a-half year old between him and home. 

Seb still isn’t talking. But at least he’s not screaming or crying, so that’s something, he guesses. 

He makes them both tea when they get home, feeding Seb cold beans and thanking his lucky stars that the boy is hungry enough to eat them because he’s got nothing else in. And then he spends twenty minutes swerving Robert’s questions on the telephone, playing up this fake back injury Cain suffered in his fake fall because he’s got huge news to tell Robert, and there’s no way he’s doing it over the phone. 

They make an early night of it, him and Seb, settling down on Aaron’s bed because that’s one of the major things he wasn’t able to fit in Robert’s car - _furniture._ It’s a bigger drop than Seb’s bed at the Mill, though, so Aaron places him against the wall, using his body as an obstacle between Seb and the floor, just in case. 

He’s lying on his back with his hands laced behind his head, staring at the ceiling when Seb crawls on top of him. 

He stares at Aaron for a minute or two, the softness of the moonlight making Seb look younger than his two and a half years. And Aaron is about to slide him back into his place by the wall when Seb reaches out with both hands and smacks Aaron’s cheeks. 

“Fuzzy,” Seb says as he rubs his palms over Aaron’s beard. 

“That’s right,” Aaron says on a laugh as he removes his hands from behind his head so he can hold Seb’s little body right where it is. “That’s what you used to call me. D-”

“Dada Fuzzy,” Seb interrupts with a giggle as he continues to rub Aaron’s cheeks. And something about the name, about the fact that even after months of not seeing him, Seb _still remembers the name,_ makes tears spring to Aaron’s eyes for the second time in two days. 

“Yeah,” he says through the lump in his throat. “That’s right. Dada Fuzzy.”

Seb just giggles again, pats Aaron’s cheeks a few more times before curling up against this chest, the same way he’d done last night. And for neither the first nor the last time, Aaron finds himself wishing that Robert was here. 

He deserves to see this. To be here. To _experience_ this. He deserves so much more than he’s been given. And Aaron knows… he _knows_ he’ll never be able to make up for all that’s been taken away. 

That as the years roll on and the missed memories pile up, Aaron’s presence two times a week won’t ever be enough. But he’s still gonna do his best to make Robert’s life better. Easier. As much as he can. Because that’s what you do when you’re in love, innit? 

You do every single thing that you can. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost done with the setup phase, folks! Then the real fun can begin...


	5. Late February 2020

**18 February 2020**

The way Aaron sees it, he’s got two options: Take Seb in to work with him and inevitably get fired for bringing a toddler to a flaming _garage_ or call in sick after a ten day jolly and inevitably get fired for taking advantage of his boss’ lenient vacation policy. 

Either way, he’s screwed. 

Not that he blames Seb for it, of course. He couldn’t exactly help that his _mum died._ It’s not even his own fault that he’s in this mess because no one really gave him any notice about the whole _you’re a dad now_ thing. 

But the fact that no one’s to blame doesn’t change the other fact that Aaron’s staring down the barrel of two very unwelcome options right now, both of which will likely result in him losing a job he quite likes and desperately needs. 

In the end, he packs up Seb’s little bag and bundles him up against the cold because at least maybe if he’s got a cute kid on him, Al will be more forgiving and not can him on the spot. Small dreams, right? 

He takes Seb out the back door, heading through the garden to the patch of asphalt next to the garage where Aaron parks his car now that Robert’s is tucked safely inside. Before he gets more than a couple of steps, though, a voice calls out to him over the fence. 

“Either I’m not very perceptive, or you’ve recently kidnapped yourself a new child,” his neighbour says, a perky blonde woman in her forties that Aaron has seen - and avoided - on occasion. 

“Eh?” he asks, following her gaze as it slips down to where Seb is all but clinging to his left side. 

“Right, that,” Aaron continues almost bashfully. “He’s me stepson. He’s just gonna be staying with me for-” _ever,_ he thinks, before saying, “a while,” instead because his life really isn’t any of her business. 

“You taking him to a sitter?” she asks in her continued crusade to stick her beak into seemingly every little bit of Aaron’s personal life. 

There is a possibility that he’s being too harsh on her. But there’s also a possibility that he’s gonna be very late to work, which is not a good look when you’re groveling for your job. 

“I’m taking him with me to work, if you must know,” he says truthfully for some reason even he can’t fathom. All he had to do was say a simple “yes” and this conversation would likely be over. Instead, he opened the door wider and rolled out a flipping welcome mat. 

“Not to sound presumptuous or anything, but I run a home daycare, if you’re in need,” she adds helpfully as if Aaron is just going to up and leave his son with the random stranger that lives next door. 

“Do you now?” he asks. 

She smiles at his rudeness, which is always weird for him to see, and says, “I’m certified n’all, if that’s what you’re worried about. I have six children total right now, and my daughter Selena - she’s eighteen and taking a break from school - she helps me with the little ones.” 

She smiles, pauses for a beat, then continues. 

“It’s mostly single parents from the neighbourhood, people in situations like I was when Selena was young, needing a helping hand. You could come in, if you’d like. Check out how we run things. Most of the kids are already here, so your little-”

She nods at Seb, prompting Aaron to blurt out his name like he’s some sorta trick pony. 

“Your little Seb can meet them, see if he clicks with the group. It’ll only take a few minutes, if you have that to spare.” 

Her eyes are practically twinkling, which means she’s either about to lure them into her house so she can bake them into a pie or she’s telling the truth. Either way, Aaron thinks it’s worth the risk. 

“Alright, sure, thanks,” he mutters as he makes his way down his garden path all the way to the front of the house, before crossing over into her yard. 

“I’m Caroline, by the way,” she says with an offered hand that Aaron manages to shake despite his own hands being pretty damn full. 

“Aaron.” 

“Well, I’m pleased to meet you, Aaron. And Seb.”

She coos the last part while pinching Seb’s cheek. An action that causes him to giggle and squirm in a way that makes Aaron’s heart warm. 

The house is… ridiculous. But like, a good ridiculous, opening as it does on a sitting room that’s literally _full_ of children and toys and noise. 

Most of the kids are a little older than Seb, but they all look at him eagerly once Aaron walks through the door in a way that makes him feel suddenly at ease. 

“There is a second sitting room in the back, for when the children are gone and Selena and I want to watch some telly that doesn’t involve singing or cartoons. But this room is set up specifically for the children as a play area.” 

As if on cue, Seb strains against Aaron’s arms, repeating the word, “Down,” until Aaron finally lets Seb climb down his side. 

He’s assimilated into the group immediately, invited into a circle made up of two girls and another boy, all playing with wooden blocks. And the way Seb smiles, unguarded and free, as he starts stacking the blocks in front of him makes Aaron feel ready to write this woman a cheque right now. 

“There’s a large dining room with more than enough booster seats for the little ones, and a bedroom upstairs filled with pop-up cots for nap time. Selena should be around here somewhere, if you’d like to meet her, which I’m sure you would, but if you have any questions, I’d be happy to-”

“I’d like to leave my son here,” Aaron blurts out like some sorta crazy person. 

Caroline laughs at him, soft and warm like a real mum, before placing a hand gently on his shoulder. 

“Normally, I like to do some interviews, fill out some paperwork, but I take it you need to be off to work soon?” 

“Yeah, you’re right, I do, and I’m probably doing this too quickly. Scratch that, I’m _definitely_ doing this too quickly. I’m just… new, to the Isle, and I don’t really know anyone or how to go about finding childcare or-”

“Seb can stay,” she interrupts soothingly. “Just let me get the intake packet. You can fill it out before you come back to pick him up so everything can be official. Sound good?” 

Aaron nods a few times like an imbecile, incapable as he is of doing much else. And then as Caroline leaves the room, he looks back at Seb, sees how comfortable he looks already, how happy he is to be around other kids. 

_Maybe this will work_ , he thinks. _Maybe this is the right thing to do._

Just as he’s thinking that last part, someone else bursts through the front door. He’s about Aaron’s age, a bit taller than him with dirt blond hair, dark eyes, and a little girl about Seb’s age plastered to his hip. 

She looks about as frazzled as her dad does, her hair a mess and her cheeks rosy from the cold as he hefts her up higher and says, “I’m so sorry I’m late, Caroline, Maddie didn’t wanna get out of bed today. I had to lure her out with puddings for breakfast, which I know makes me father of the year, but nothing else was working, so if you could manage to get some fruit down her today I’ll love you forev-”

He stops talking when he steps out of his own whirlwind long enough to notice Aaron. 

“You’re not Caroline,” he says as Maddie knees him in the stomach in a clear attempt to get him to let her down. 

He does, a bit haphazardly, before he stands up straight and runs his hand through his hair to try and tame the mess. 

It doesn’t work. 

“I’m Aaron,” Aaron says, nodding once because his hands are shoved in his pockets and he’s got no intention of pulling them out. “Caroline’s gone to get me some paperwork.” 

“Oh, you’re a new parent!” the guy exclaims like he thought maybe Aaron was the gas man or summat. “I’m James. Um… Maddie’s dad.” 

“Yeah, I gathered that,” Aaron says, skating the line between friendly and rude like a pro. “My… um… stepson, Seb, he’s gonna be coming here, I guess.” 

James smiles at him, all teeth like they’re best mates (or maybe just like he’s polite), and says, “You guess? Is this some sort of trial run? Because if it is, I’m more than happy to give a testimonial. Maddie has been coming here for a little over a year now and she _loves_ it. Probably even better than home, actually, which would be sad if I didn’t also live at home and know just how pathetic it is.” 

“Puddings for breakfast?” Aaron contributes with a lopsided grin. 

James laughs, a little too heartily for Aaron’s lame joke, but Aaron can tell he’s just trying to be friendly so he lets it slide. 

“You should see what we get up to at tea time,” James jokes back with an actual wink that makes one of Aaron’s eyebrows raise in suspicion. Before either one of them has the chance to say another word, though, Caroline is fluttering back into the room with a stack of papers the size of an unpublished novel. 

“We’re very thorough here,” she says in response to Aaron’s widening eyes as she plops the stack into his hands. “We find it’s best to make sure that everyone is on the same page, isn’t that right, James?” 

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies with a mock salute that makes Caroline _giggle._ And normally those kinds of things would put Aaron right off of people, but he’s not here to make friends. He’s here to find a safe, happy place for Seb to hang out when he’s at work. So mock salutes and giggling seem pretty par for his course. 

“Well, I need to be heading off to work,” Aaron says as he tucks the papers under his arms. “It was really great to meet you, _both_ of you. Is it alright if I come back around five to pick him up?” 

“Of course, dear. And my number is written on that very first page, if you need anything. In fact! Silly me! I’ll need your number before you go, in case I need to get in contact with you.” 

“Right,” Aaron says, the word sounding more like _shit_ in his head because what is he, some kinda idiot? About to leave his kid with someone who’s got no way of getting in touch with him? Genius, that is. 

He tears a strip off the back page in the packet, writes down both his cell number and the number for Al’s, before handing it to Caroline. 

“And this work number,” Caroline asks, “Is that for...”

“It’s Al’s garage, downtown. I’m a mechanic.” 

“Oh, well that explains that gorgeous Porsche you brought back with you this week,” she says like someone that actually knows something about cars, which is not what he would’ve expected. 

“Yeah, it’s my husband’s.”

“Oh, you’re married, how wonderful! I look forward to meeting him when I can.” 

Aaron squirms a little, secures the papers under his arm so he can shove his hands back into his pockets. “Yeah, sounds great. I should be-”

“Going, right!” she supplies. “As I’m sure you should too, James?” 

“What? Um. Yeah. Going. I need to be. Have to go,” he stammers, his cheeks a little pink which is odd, given how warm the house is. But Aaron doesn’t think much about it, mostly because he’s not here to make friends, remember? He’s just here for Seb. And one last look Seb’s way shows him just how comfortable he is here already. 

“Bye, Seb!” Aaron calls out, feeling Seb’s giant smile when he looks at him warm every single inch of him. 

“Bye, Dada Fuzzy!” 

James snorts out a little laugh as Caroline begins cooing again next to him, and that’s most definitely Aaron’s cue to leave. 

Halfway to work he realizes he left Seb with a complete stranger basically on a whim. Halfway back home he realizes he’s being an idiot and that Seb is most likely safe where he is. And halfway back to work _again_ he needs to pull over and have a quick panic attack. 

He calls Caroline once he’s calmed down, makes her put Seb on the phone and spends a few minutes listening to him babble about something nonsensical. Then, and only then, does he go to work. 

All told, he’s about an hour and a half late, something that Reese is quick to point out when he finally rocks up.

“I’m sorry,” he says honestly as he takes off his coat and yanks his overalls off their hook. “I had to find daycare for my stepson.” 

Reese’s head pops out from beneath the bonnet she’s currently working under. 

“Did you just stay ‘stepson’?” she asks with a look that’s half disbelief and half taking the piss. “Since when do you have a kid?” 

“Since he was born?” Aaron snaps back all snootily. But then he remembers that he’s trying _not_ to get fired, so he adds, “But he’s living with me now because his mother died a few weeks back.” 

Reese’s face immediately looks apologetic. “I’m sorry, mate. I didn’t know.” 

“How would you?” Aaron asks, his voice softening a bit now that Reese isn’t actively attacking him. 

She smiles, the crooked one she seems to save for Aaron and obnoxious customers. “Fair point. So you’re a dad, eh? Never would’ve pegged it.”

He finishes buttoning up his overalls and crosses his arms over his chest. “Well, there’s a lot you don’t know about me.” 

“Maybe not as much as you think,” she says with a wink that makes Aaron _very_ uncomfortable. But she’s back beneath her bonnet before he has a chance to ask what the hell she means. 

He finds out that afternoon. Al hasn’t been in all day and the pair of them have been working flat out since they got here. Aaron’s currently under his fourth car of the day, replacing some brake pads, when Reese kicks the dolly he’s lying on. 

He slides out slowly, blinks up at the fluorescent light behind her, and raises one eyebrow in question. 

“Reckon we’ve earned a break, don’t you?” 

He knows he hasn’t been working at Al’s for long, but he can already tell that taking a tea break with Reese is… weird. Very weird. Extra weird. And the unsettled feeling is only amplified by the look on her face, similar to the one she wore before when she’d made her cryptic comment about _knowing him_ and winked her way back to work. 

It’s all why he’s probably not as shocked as he should be when she says straight up, once they’ve got their teas in hand, “I looked you up this weekend.” 

He hides behind his mug for a second, waiting for the second hammer to fall. 

“Or should I say I looked up your husband. He doesn’t work at HMP, does he?” 

“Look, Reese, I really need this job,” Aaron flat out begs, zero pride whatsoever because he’s got a kid to take care of now, and he can’t live off his savings forever. 

She looks taken aback by his statement, her head actually _literally_ snaps back at it. Her eyes all wide like she can’t believe Aaron would suggest something like that as she says, “What, you think I’m gonna drop you in it? Even if I did, my dad wouldn’t care that your husband is a con. What kind of people do you think we are?” 

He doesn’t know how to answer that, mostly because he really doesn’t know what kind of people he thought they were. Clearly ones that wouldn’t want the husband of a con working for them. But his heart rate is starting to relax a bit because obviously, that’s not what’s going on here.

“You and I are gonna be mates,” Reese continues knowingly as she smiles over the rim of her mug. 

“Why? Because I’ve got a husband in prison?” 

She laughs for a second, but then she puts her mug down, leans onto her thighs, and looks Aaron straight in the eye when she says, “No, because you’re loyal. Not many people would stick with someone with that kind of sentence.” 

He shifts a little on his stool under the intensity of her stare and says, one hundred percent truthfully, “It wasn’t an option,” because it _wasn’t._

Nothing with Robert has ever been an option. 

“Well, I’m impressed,” she says before smiling something wicked and adding, “Though I’m sure it doesn’t hurt that your husband is well fit.”

A surprised bark of laughter escapes Aaron’s lips, causing him to spill tea all over the leg of his overalls. But even still, he’s smiling when he says, “I’ll be sure to tell him you said that, even if it inflates his already oversized ego.”

“Bloke with those cheekbones deserves to be a little conceited, don’t you think? He looks like he fell out of a bloody Brioni advert or summat,” she says through renewed laughter. And Aaron can’t help but join in. 

After all, even though he’s got no clue what a Brioni is, he can agree that Robert does have _really nice_ cheekbones. 

**~*~**

**19 February 2020**

Aaron’s been lying to him. Ever since he went back to the village for Liv’s eighteenth, since their call got interrupted because Cain supposedly “slipped on some beer” or whatever, Aaron’s been _lying._ Robert can tell in the sound of his voice, in the way everything is pinched like Aaron is physically trying to hold something in, or in the way he can hear him slip into quieter rooms when _something_ in the background disturbs him. 

Aaron, his beautiful, loving, caring husband is flat out _lying to him,_ and Robert is terrified of learning why. 

It’s why he’s anxious to get into the visitor’s room today. Because even though he’s scared, he still _needs to know._ But all of that is seemingly overrun by Aaron’s mere presence as soon as he claps eyes on him because it’s been almost two weeks since they’ve seen each other, and lying or not, he doesn’t want to go that long without Aaron ever again. 

“Hiya,” Robert sighs as he takes the seat across from Aaron, his heart thudding in his chest to the point of pain as he wrings his hands together beneath the table, out of Aaron’s eyesight. 

Aaron smiles feebly, the expression looking more miserable than anything as Aaron leans across the table, stretching his hands out to Robert, and says the simple word, “Hi.”

It already sounds like a bomb going off. Like sirens wailing in Robert’s ears long before Aaron adds, “Can you just… can you gimme your hands? Please?” 

“Why?” Robert asks as he sits up straighter, further away from Aaron, which kills him a little inside, putting distance between them. But if Aaron is about to say what Robert thinks he’s about to say, he’s not feeling like making it easy on him. 

It’s only been a few weeks, but it was Aaron’s idea to come here, to give him hope that they had some sort of messed up future together. So if he’s going to take that away so soon?

Robert has every right to be resistant. 

“Because I have some news for you, Robert, and I just… I really just wanna hold your hands while I say it, if that’s okay?” 

Robert crosses his arms over his chest and sticks out his chin. “Look, if you’re going to tell me that you’re moving back to Emmerdale, then don’t bother. I knew something like this would happen eventually, though I’ve got to say, you didn’t last quite as long as I thought you would.” 

Aaron quirks his head like a confused dog. “What? No, we’re not going anywhere. Why would you even think that?” Aaron defends, but the only word Robert can focus on is…

“We?” 

“Jesus, Robert, just gimme your hands, please. I need to be holding you when I say this and holding your hands is the best I’m gonna get, so just-”

Robert stops his rant mid-sentence by reaching out and taking Aaron’s hands, and the way Aaron squeezes them, so tight like he’s afraid Robert’s going to fly out of his seat if he doesn’t, sends a renewed spike of fear straight to Robert’s bones. 

“What is it?” Robert asks shakily, his eyes locked on Aaron’s as both pairs begin to fill with tears. But Aaron is the only one that knows _why_ that’s happening, why Robert should be crying. And so he needs Aaron to fill him in _right now._

“It’s Rebecca,” Aaron blurts out, his own voice trembling as well. “I’m sorry, Robert, but she’s… she’s dead.”

His first instinct is to laugh. Because this has to be a joke, right? Rebecca can’t be _dead._ She’s in Liverpool, living with Ross and…

“Seb?” he gasps, the information about Rebecca being pushed to the side by his fear over what’s happened to his son in the aftermath. If he’s still with Ross, still with _the man who almost killed him._

Robert can feel himself panicking now, like he used to after the shooting. The way his heart rate would kick up, his breathing become shallow as the memories of that night flooded over him one after another after another after-

“He’s with me,” Aaron assures him, rubbing his thumbs soothingly over the backs of Robert’s hands as he leans further over the table like he can sense Robert’s panic and he wants to do something about it, something more than just hold his bloody hands. 

“I mean, he’s obviously not with me right this second, they don’t allow kids younger than eight in the visitor’s room. He’s with a sitter, someone I trust, but he’s… he’s living with me now, Robert. With _us._ You’ve got him back.” 

A shard of light cuts through the panic at that, at the idea that his son is _his_ again. But then he remembers that it took Rebecca _dying_ to get that, and the panic just kicks up another notch. 

“How did she… how did it happen?” Robert practically whispers, the question clawing at his insides, trying to keep from getting out because he doesn’t want to know, does? 

He doesn't want to, but he _has to._

Aaron smiles something small and sympathetic before he bats his eyelashes a few times and says, “It was a car accident.” 

Robert actually does laugh this time, at the ridiculousness of the concept of fate and the fact that, after everything Rebecca went through, she died in a crumpled heap of metal on the side of the road anyway. 

“Shit,” Robert hisses. And he wants to bury his face in his hands, maybe even cry a little, but Aaron won’t let him go. So he just pushes his seat back a little so he can lean forward, press his forehead to the cold table and still hold Aaron’s hands as he does his best to just breathe. 

Aaron lets him be for a while, just lets him figure things out on his own as he continues running his thumbs gently along the backs of Robert’s hands. And it reminds him of how much he loves him, how much he’ll never be able to deserve him but how much he selfishly _wants him_ anyway. And that alone is enough to get him to lift his head again. 

“How is he?” Robert asks, his voice croaking a little from the tears still straining to escape. 

“Seb’s okay,” Aaron replies, knowing as he does exactly who Robert is talking about. “A little quiet sometimes. And I’m sure he misses her. Misses both of them, probably. But he’s young. He’ll forget, I guess.” 

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Robert snaps, and he can’t tell if he’s mad because of the idea that Seb will forget Rebecca or the equally terrifying idea that Seb will forget _him._

“No, of course not,” Aaron says as he leans further in, close enough for Robert to feel his body heat emanating off his skin. “I’m just… I’m trying here, Robert. I’m just trying.” 

“I know you are,” Robert says with a sigh. “I do. It’s just… Seb’s not going to have a mum.”

Fire licks over Robert’s skin at that, at the memory of Sarah, burned alive while Robert stood on helpless. Of the years after Sarah’s death, the ways in which her absence messed him up, helped make him into the flawed excuse for a human being he is today. 

“He’ll still have everything he needs,” Aaron says as soothingly as he can, and suddenly it’s two years ago. Lachlan is in prison and Rebecca is missing and Aaron is just trying to convince Robert that it’ll all be alright. 

That’s what he does for him. One of the _many_ things Aaron does for him. He makes things better, makes him believe that things _can be better._ And right now, all Robert wants to do is lean into that. 

He can’t, though. He just found out Rebecca was dead a few minutes ago and already the guilt is coating him like a fever. It’s why he asks, “How?” because he doesn’t get it. 

How could Seb possibly have everything he needs? 

“You’re not even living by Vic and Diane,” Robert continues. “By your mum and Liv. You’re not-”

“Enough?” Aaron interrupts, his face twisted in the kind of pain Robert just seems to keep causing him, five bloody years of it. His voice broken when he adds, “You don’t think I can do this, do you?” 

“Of course I do,” Robert hisses as he squeezes Aaron’s hands hard enough to hurt. “You can do _anything._ But that doesn’t mean you should have to. You shouldn’t… Aaron, you shouldn’t have to do this alone.” 

“I’m not alone,” Aaron responds, and the way he sounds so sure of himself, so sure of _them,_ makes Robert want to break. 

“I don’t count,” he says miserably. But Aaron doesn’t let him throw his pity party for long as he replies, “You count for more than you know.” 

“Aaron,” Robert tries, but Aaron just shakes his head at him. 

His voice so flaming confident it’s almost contagious as he says, “They have these rooms here. Family rooms. Where kids under eight can come and visit in a controlled environment. I already got us on the waiting list for it. And you can talk to him every night on our calls. And I’ll… I’ll tell him bedtime stories. About you. He’ll still grow up with you, Robert. He’ll still grow up with _two_ dads that love him and then when you’re out, we can be a proper family again.” 

He’s smiling at Robert by the end of his little speech, the love so potent in his expression that there are practically hearts over his eyes. And the only thing Robert can manage to say, like he’s some sort of simpleton, is, “You researched the rooms?” 

“Of course I did. It was the _first_ thing I did. I knew that would be the first thing you’d want to do - see him for yourself, _hold him,_ make sure he’s okay.” 

Robert lets the quiet settle around them for a moment, lets his eyes trail over Aaron’s face before saying so softly, so simply, “I love you,” because he does. 

Aaron’s smile widens. “I love you too, idiot. Now how’s about we talk about what you’ve been up to the last few weeks?” 

_Anything for you,_ Robert thinks. 

Anything at all. 

~*~

There’s a new guard at the post-visit frisk down. Robert’s still messed up inside over his meeting with Aaron, though, so he doesn’t notice the officer until his hands are running up Robert’s legs. 

“Robert Sugden, right?” the guard says as his hands dip into Robert’s trouser pockets. 

“Sir?” he asks. 

“Brighton,” the man supplies, _Officer Brighton._ And Robert isn’t so out of it that he doesn’t notice the familiarity of the name. 

“Like the warden?” he asks, causing Officer Brighton to smile brightly at him. His blue eyes practically twinkling with it. 

“He’s my dad. And _you’re_ Robert Sugden,” Brighton continues as his hands move up over Robert’s sides. 

“Sugden-Dingle actually, but yeah. Do I know you?” 

The guard stops for a moment, looks Robert right in the eyes and says, “Sort of. I used to work at Hotten. In fact, I worked your transfer down here. You seemed pretty out of it, though. Not surprised you didn’t notice me.”

Brighton sounds a little hurt by his own statement, as evidenced by the shy way he runs his hand back through the mop of dark brown hair atop his head. And all of a sudden Robert realizes what’s going on here. 

He can always tell when someone finds him attractive. 

It’s uncomfortable here, given the power differentiation between the two of them, and the fact that Brighton is currently trailing his hands over Robert’s shoulders. But Robert doesn’t say anything because Robert’s not stupid. 

This might be something he can use to his advantage. And he’d be stupid not to keep it in his back pocket for a rainy day, just in case. 

~*~

**21 February 2020**

Robert’s been having such vivid nightmares for the past two nights that he wakes up with a scream lodged in his throat each time. 

It’s the fire that killed Sarah, in all its flaming glory, only Rebecca is the one inside this time. 

Rebecca _and Seb._

She manages to make it to the door, to a crack caused by the way the barn is buckling into itself. But she can’t fit through; it’s not big enough for her. It is big enough for Seb, though, and so each time, Rebecca passes him through the crack. 

That’s when the screaming begins, when the fire catches up with her. That’s when Robert has to watch as Rebecca’s skin melts from her bones, her hair burned down to her bald skull. That’s when Robert has to watch the mother of his child die in the most horrific way possible as he holds their boy in his hands. 

And that’s when all the memories of Robert’s past failures begin to wash back over him again like a flood. 

“Save him!” Rebecca shouts, her voice completely wrecked by the flames and the smoke. And in that moment, just before he wakes up, Robert’s wrists and ankles are chained together and he realizes that he can’t do as she asks. 

That there’s no possible way for him to save Seb, especially when the thing he needs to be saved from the most is him. 

~*~

“Happy anniversary,” Aaron says softly when he picks up the phone that evening. 

Normally, those words would make Robert feel like a million pounds. But tonight? 

“Shit,” he says under his breath as he bangs his head against the wall the phone is hanging on. 

“Take it you forgot?” Aaron asks, but he doesn’t sound mad. The wanker just sounds… amused. 

“I’m such a cliche,” he replies miserably. And it’s not like he could’ve done anything for Aaron for their anniversary anyway. And it’s not like they won’t have many more down the line where Robert will be equally useless. But it would’ve been nice if he could’ve _remembered._ It’s the least he could’ve done. 

“You’ve had a lot on your mind,” Aaron says, his voice so smooth and gentle, so _tired,_ really, that it just makes Robert want to melt into a puddle on the floor. 

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Aaron adds for good measure. And he knows he says it a lot, but he really does love this man. More than he could even put into words. 

“Do you want your present or what?” Aaron asks after a few moments in which Robert just daydreams about how much he loves his husband like he’s writing their names on the soles of his shoes during his lunch break at school. 

“Present?” 

“Yeah… um… close your eyes, yeah?” 

Aaron’s voice is different now, it’s shy, almost bashful, which means Robert knows _exactly_ what he’s about to do. 

It’s why he says, “You know I can’t actually see you right now, right?” Half to tease Aaron and half to try and get in the mood for something he’s practically been begging Aaron for for weeks. 

Aaron doesn’t do phone sex, though. He never has. But there’s always time to learn, Robert reckons. 

“Just close them or this ain’t happening,” Aaron says all snippily. And Robert finds his smile deepening at the inclusion of Grump into their sexual routine. 

It’s just like the old days. 

_The old days,_ Robert thinks again, the thought sending ripples of pain through his body as he looks at the phone in his hand, at the cement wall in front of him, and realizes that they’ll maybe never have those old days again. 

It’s a lot to deal with on a day where he barely slept because he couldn’t stop dreaming about his son’s dead mother. 

Aaron is talking in the background, explaining in vague details about how he’s undressing Robert, kissing his way across his neck. But Robert finds himself interrupting Aaron’s progress before he even really gets started. 

“Aaron?” he asks. 

There’s a slight pause before Aaron says, “Yeah? Am I not doing it right or summat?” 

“No, it’s just,” Robert pauses for a second, looks around to make sure no one is listening in before saying, “Could you just, maybe, hold me instead? Would that be alright?” 

“Soft,” Aaron says with a small laugh before continuing, “We’re on our bed back at the Mill, lying on those ridiculously expensive Egyptian cotton sheets you love.” 

“You mean ridiculously comfortable,” Robert cuts in with a laugh of his own. 

“Oi, no comments from the peanut gallery. Now where was I? Right, we’re on the bed, sticky from… well, _you know._ You’re lying on top of me just like you always do, flopped over like a starfish, your head just above my heart and I’m holding you.”

Aaron pauses, his voice more serious when he comes back and says, “I’m _holding you,_ Robert. I’ve got one arm wrapped over your back and my other hand in your hair, carding my fingers through it. And I’m just listening to you breathe. My chest rising and falling to match your breaths because that’s just how we are together. Dialed in to one another like there’s not even… not even an _inch_ of space between us.”

“Not an inch,” Robert mumbles. And if he closes his eyes really tight, he can almost feel Aaron’s arms around him, holding him close, keeping away the nightmares. 

Almost. 

“And that’s how we fall asleep, innit?” Aaron asks, his voice quieter like he’s actually trying to lull Robert to sleep. “Tied up, just the two of us, like nothing can touch us. And it can’t, Robert. I promise you that, here and now. Nothing’s gonna touch us, okay?” 

“Okay,” he whispers, not wanting to disturb the peace in his head. 

Nothing’s going to touch them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are officially at the end of the Prologue section of the story. All the major pieces are on the board. Now’s the time to really start playing with them. ;) 


	6. March 2020

**13 March 2020**

In her apparent campaign to be Aaron’s new best mate, Reese invites him out for drinks one Friday night a few weeks after their little chat. Well… _ invite _ is a generous way of putting it.  _ Pestered him for eight straight days until he finally caved and said yes  _ is a bit more apt. 

He hasn’t had someone try to befriend him this aggressively since Robert, back in the days of coffees at the garage and offers to buy drinks, cornering him in alleyways, that sort of thing. Reese seems more like she wants to adopt him rather than shag him, but either way he’d normally hang back and wait for the friend barrage to blow over before he made any concrete decisions. 

There’s still just something so familiar about her, though, like a bit of his past brought into the present. And, let’s face it, it’s not like he’s got any other mates queuing up to take him out. So how bad could one drink really be? 

Bad. It can be really bad. 

“Is this a gay bar?” Aaron hisses in virtual horror as they’re swallowed by the swell of noise, the atmosphere stifling in more ways than he can count. 

“Did you actually bring me to a gay bar? You do remember I have a husband, right?” 

Reese rolls her eyes and places her hand on his shoulder. “Relax, grandpa. I didn’t bring you here to pull.” 

Aaron’s face pinches down in disgruntlement. “Grandpa? I’m, like, five years older than you max.” 

“Yeah, like I said, grandpa,” she replies, the word “duh” not spoken but still understood. “I brought you here because this place has the best music in town and their mixed drinks are dirt cheap. And I, for one, wanna get annihilated tonight.” 

She takes her hand off his shoulder but only long enough to smack him between his shoulder blades and steer him in the direction of the mass of humanity crowding the bar.

She’s got a point. He does feel old. It’s been less than five years since he did this on the regular, slinking into seedy bars, slinking off with even seedier blokes. But marriage and his now two bouts of fatherhood have made him feel so ancient that any connection between him and the people around him - Reese included - feels paper thin. 

He just wants to go home. Wants to pick up Seb from Al’s, cuddle with him on the sofa in front of an episode of “Top Gear,” and fall asleep with his son curled up in his arms and a salsa stain on his t-shirt. 

That’s not what the night has in store for him, though. He promised he’d do this, and Aaron doesn’t like breaking promises. It’s sorta his  _ thing.  _ So he takes Reese’s order - something called a Rum Swizzle, which just sounds  _ delightful _ \- and shoulders his way through the crowd. 

She’s somehow managed to find them a high table when he returns with their drinks and two unasked for napkins with phone numbers shoved into his jacket pocket about twenty minutes later. And he might feel awkward carrying around the brightly coloured concoction Reese ordered if he gave even half a care about what the people in this bar think of him. 

“Let me guess!” she shouts over the music. “Whiskey neat?” 

“Yeah!” he shouts back. “You owe me six pound fifty for this monstrosity,” he slides her drink over to her, “and five pounds for mine.” 

He’s smiling when he sits on his stool, the grin toothless but pressed from ear to ear as he sets his own drink down and waits for her reaction. 

“So I’m paying now?” she asks. 

Aaron shows some teeth. “First three rounds or so, I reckon, given that this was your idea n’all.” 

Reese tilts her head like she’s thinking about it before smiling herself. “Fair point. I guess we better get started.” And then she flat out tips her head back and downs almost her entire drink in one go. 

She was not kidding about wanting to get annihilated. 

“So tell me how you met? You and your hubby,” she says about an hour and a half later. 

Reese is four cocktails in and Aaron, on his third whiskey, is contemplating switching over to beer for the next few rounds. He’s got a visit with Robert tomorrow afternoon, and a kid to take care of tomorrow morning, and he doesn’t fancy being massively hung over for either of them. 

Aaron thinks about her question for a half a second before saying, “I nicked his car.” 

Her face is a  _ picture.  _

“You’re kidding, right?” she asks, leaning forward onto the table like they’re two girls at a sleepover sharing secrets over a Ouija board or whatever they do.

“Yeah… well… half kidding. This idiot Ross I was working a car racket with was the one who actually stole it, but Robert caught  _ both  _ of us with our hands in the cookie jar.”

Reese’s eyes widen even further. “Wait, so like, you’re serious? Like  _ serious  _ serious?” 

Aaron nods, then wonders what it says about him that he can’t understand why Reese is so shocked. It was just a little light larceny. Don’t most people get up to stuff like that when they’re young? 

God, he is such a flaming Dingle, isn’t he? 

“Yeah, I’m serious. He caught us flat out. Had us on film and everything.” 

“So what did you do? How’d you get him not to press charges?” 

Aaron thinks for another second, then does an internal shrug. Because really, what’s Reese gonna do with all this information now anyway? Other than get him fired, of course, but she doesn’t seem too keen on that or else she would’ve done it already. 

“We agreed to stage a breakin at his house to get his soon to be father-in-law to think he was a hero or summat, I’m still not a hundred percent on the details. But apparently he admires my burglary skills because not long after that we… well, we had an affair. A long one.”

_ People died,  _ he thinks, but no matter how drunk he’s starting to feel, he knows better than to mention Katie to anyone ever again. That secret is going with them to their graves. 

“God, you sound like a soap opera! So how’d the affair end?” she asks, her voice unmistakably excited right now, her latest cocktail completely forgotten. “Like, how’d you get together proper?” 

He imagines a world where he can say,  _ Well he tried to kill my stepdad then tied me to a radiator and threatened to kill me so I blew the affair to his wife out of spite,  _ and laughs. Because really, their whole entire story is so flipping ridiculous it’s a miracle they’re even still together anymore. 

Then the laugh dies when he remembers holding Robert’s blood inside his body in the Woolpack car park, remembers seeing him alive in court months later, remembers Gordon, and Robert,  _ always Robert,  _ and he knows beyond any shadow of doubt that he’d walk through the fires of hell barefoot for his husband. 

“Oh, you know, it was pretty boring,” he says instead of the truth. “His wife found out, kicked him to the curb, and then a few months later we just sorta found our way back to each other and that was it.”

“That was it?” she asks incredulously. “You really expect me to believe that?” 

“It’s not my business what you believe,” he says with a wicked grin. “But it is my round. So you maybe wanna finish that one up and I’ll make another run to the bar?” 

She downs the rest of her drink in one swallow then asks him to get her a Dark ‘n’ Stormy. And Aaron, long since past the point of rolling his eyes at her choice of alcohol, slides off his stool and makes his fifth trip to the bar. 

He likes her, he realizes suddenly. He doesn’t usually like most people, as evidenced by his pathetically small friend group back in the village. He actually quite  _ likes  _ Reese, though. But he guesses that’s what happens when you spend five days a week mostly alone with someone, taking the mick. 

He hears someone call the name “Aaron” when he’s on his way back to their table, but given that basically the only person he knows on this island is sitting in his eyesight, bopping her head to the song being played, he assumes this mystery person is talking to another Aaron and keeps moving. That is until there’s a hand on his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks and almost causing him to spill thirteen pounds worth of drinks all over himself. 

“I thought that was you,” the voice says again, loud enough to be heard over the music. And either Aaron is drunk or he’s just a complete arsehole because it takes him longer than it should to realize who he’s looking at. 

“Maddie’s dad,” Aaron blurts out, the first thing that comes to his mind because at the daycare, he only really knows the other parents based on what kid they belong to. 

The bloke laughs, ducks his head in a way some people might find charming and runs his hand back through his hair. “James, actually, but yeah, I’m Maddie’s dad. Fancy meeting you here.” 

Aaron stares at him for a few seconds, certain that he’s supposed to be responding but having no idea what to do with James’ social cues. He’s always been rubbish at this, at _talking to people_ when there isn’t a specified, desired outcome involved, and the three whiskies haven’t done him any favours tonight in that department. 

Before he can think of anything to do but stare, James continues. 

“Are you on a date with your husband or summat?” he asks, nodding to the two drinks in Aaron’s hand. 

“What? Em, no. Just… here. With a friend,” Aaron manages to spit out as his mind wildly conjures the image of him and Robert here, on a date,  _ in a gay bar  _ like that is something they ever would’ve done in the past. 

_ He did go that once,  _ Aaron muses. With five girls in tow, of course. But he went willingly, and that night the trajectory of Aaron’s life changed forever. 

He’s not here now, though. It’s just Aaron… and this James bloke, staring at each other awkwardly until James asks, “Mind if I join you? I’m at a bit of a loose end. I was here with a mate but he pulled.” 

Aaron wants to say no. He really,  _ really  _ wants to say no. But he’s trying to be different here, on the Isle. More… open, he guesses. And maybe this is the universe chucking another mate at him. 

Maybe. 

“Yeah, sure, she’s right over here,” Aaron says as amicably as he can (which isn’t very). And then he leads James over to where Reese is still just bopping her head, lost in the music until the sounds of Aaron and her glasses plonking on the table pulls her out. 

“Who’s this?” she says with just about as much friendliness as Aaron usually has. 

“Reese, James. James, Reese,” Aaron says with a couple tips of his head. “James is one of the parents from Seb’s daycare. Reese works with me at the garage.” 

Introductions done, he plops himself on his stool and takes a deep drag from his pint, wishing now that it was another whiskey. 

James and Reese exchange the kind of pleasantries that just make Aaron tired, and then, somehow, like it’s magic, they both start talking really fast and excited about what Aaron can only gather is a cartoon or summat. 

It’s a pin Reese has on her bag, resting on the table. James recognizes it and Reese gets all high-pitched about it, and Aaron is actually relieved because it gives him a good twenty minutes or so to just sit there and stare off into space. 

“Aaron, have you ever read ‘Death Note’?” Reese asks eventually, and he blames the way his mind was just  _ lost  _ for a while there for how long it takes him to answer. 

“You what?” is all he’s got when the dust in his mind settles. 

Reese rolls her eyes at him, James does this weird laugh like he thinks Aaron is just being cute, and that salsa stain on his t-shirt is looking better by the second. 

“Have. You. Ever. Read. ‘Death. Note’?” Reese repeats. 

When Aaron replies, “Is that some sorta comic book?” you’d think he just dropped his pants and waved his cock about like some perv given their response. 

It’s loud. It’s groaning. And it’s really quite a bit too much. 

“It’s manga,” James says as he reaches out to rest his hand on Aaron’s forearm. Which sounds like one of those fake words Robert would use to justify his nerdery. 

“Well, I’ve never heard of it. But I’d be willing to bet my husband owns all the issues or episodes or whatever you call ‘em.” 

James slides his hand back, dropping it into his own lap. And Aaron doesn’t really notice the weight of it all until it’s gone, allowing him to breathe as clearly as a packed club will allow. 

“So where is your husband then? Home with Seb?” James asks, and the question… it rankles. Which is why Aaron is probably a bit more snippy than he needs to be when he replies, “Where’s your husband? Home with Maddie?” 

James’ face goes pale. Really,  _ really  _ pale. His entire expression just falling off the face of the flaming earth as he says, “Paul died two years ago. Cancer.” 

Aaron is an arsehole. Aaron is a bloody  _ arsehole.  _

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out, reaching out to rest his hand on James’ bicep. “I didn’t mean… I didn’t know-”

“How would you?” James replies with a shrug. “And you’ve got nothing to be sorry for. But thanks, anyways.”

He reaches up to pat the back of Aaron’s hand where it’s still resting on his arm, and Aaron cannot actually remember the last time he felt this awkward and uncomfortable. Which means he probably actually  _ loves  _ Reese when she shrieks out, “I love this song!” and grabs James’ hand, pulling it away from Aaron’s. 

“Dance with me,” Reese commands with a wink sent Aaron’s way. And Aaron finds himself mouthing a little, “Thank you,” behind James’ back as he watches them traipse off to the dance floor. 

Once they’re gone, he can officially take his foot out of his mouth as it strikes him, suddenly, just how lucky he is that Robert is still alive. That  _ both  _ of them are. And that they have this chance, however slim, to stay together forever. 

It’s what he’s thinking about as he turns his head so he can watch James and Reese dance. They look like a pair of right idiots, throwing their arms about like they’ve got no sense of rhythm whatsoever. And he finds himself laughing until the scene inevitably reminds him of Robert. 

He’s always been a horrible dancer, but ever since that night at the club, the day after their anniversary, Aaron’s had a soft spot for the chaotic way his husband moves. And it’s all that he wants in life right now, to see it again. To  _ have that  _ again. 

He gets up from his stool at that, catches Reese’s eye briefly from across the floor, and then heads straight for the exit. Because he’s done his bit tonight, he’s come out, he’s socialized, he’s downed enough alcohol that he should be able to sleep. And so it’s okay if he leaves now. 

Reese doesn’t seem to think so, though, given the way she catches up with him at the end of the block, links her arm with his like she’s afraid he’ll bolt at her presence before she asks, “You alright?” 

“I’m fine, Reese. You can go back in and hang out with James. I just want to go to your dad’s, get Seb, and go home.” 

“Well I’ll walk with you, then,” she replies easily as she tilts her head and rests it on his shoulder. 

He says, “You don’t have to,” but he means  _ thanks.  _

A sentiment she obviously picks up on because the next words out of her mouth are, “You don’t have to thank me.” 

He hip-checks her a little, but she still keeps their arms linked. 

“I never said thank you.” 

“Yeah, well, your eyes did, so blame them,” she replies, hip-checking him right back. And just like that, the rolling pit in Aaron’s stomach settles. 

“You had fun tonight, right? Before the interloper joined us?” Reese asks almost shyly a few minutes later. 

“Yeah, Reese. I had fun tonight.” 

“Good! That means we can do it again. I was thinking of making this a Friday  _ thing.  _ What d’ya reckon?” 

Aaron groans deeply, all the way through his ribs. But even though he doesn’t say yes, he doesn’t say no either. Because maybe it would be nice to have a night out every week,  _ with a friend.  _ A night to just relax and enjoy some good drinks and even better conversation. 

Maybe it’ll be nice to be normal. 

So he doesn’t say yes, but he doesn’t say no. He just makes a  _ hmmm  _ sound and keeps walking, letting the silence settle all the way into his bones as he makes his way back towards Seb. Towards his new reality. 

Toward life, or something like it. 

~*~

**14 March 2020**

“So where’s Seb today?” Robert asks as soon as they’re settled in their chairs. They’ve just finished their pre-visit hug and Robert is itching to get into their during-visit conversation, the one that lately has revolved mostly around his son. 

_ His son.  _

He still can’t believe he’s back with them. Or, well, back with Aaron mind. But back in the family, back with his dads, away from Ross and his… and his mum. 

It hurts to think about her. It probably always will. He’s still having nightmares about her every night to prove how much it all  _ hurts.  _ But today isn’t about that. For this hour, Robert has his Aaron with him, has a chance to touch him, however minimally. Has a chance to hold him, however briefly. And he’s not going to waste it feeling guilty about Rebecca. 

“Is he with Caroline?” Robert elaborates. 

Aaron reaches across the table and wraps his hand over top of Robert’s, giving it a good squeeze before saying, “No, he’s with Al. He had such a good time playing grandpa last night that he volunteered to take him again today.” 

“Why did Al have him last night?” Robert asks, and it’s mostly just curiosity that’s prompting the question. But something stiffens in Aaron regardless, something that immediately puts Robert on edge. 

“I went out last night,” Aaron replies with a ducked head, his other hand, the one not still holding Robert’s, rubbing along the back of his neck. “With Reese.” 

Robert blows out a breath that he’d apparently been holding, something very much like relief washing over his body as he says, “So you finally said yes to her, eh?” 

“Yeah, well, you’ve only been banging on about it all week,” he says like a grumpy baby. “Had me getting it from both ends, so it weren’t like I had much of a choice.” 

“Excuse me for wanting my husband to have a little bit of fun in his downtime,” Robert says only half defensively, which is the best he can do at this particular moment. 

Aaron looks up at him then, fire in his eyes as he says, “This is fun,” like it’s a declaration of undying love and devotion. 

For Aaron, it probably is. 

“I know it is,” Robert says softly as he flips his hand over so he can link their fingers together. “But it’s not  _ out there.  _ It’s not r-”

“If you say it’s not real, I’m gonna deck ya,” Aaron interrupts, his voice angry almost, the way he gets any time Robert tries to undersell what they’re doing here, test the waters to see if Aaron wants to back out. 

And Robert just does what he always does. He sighs, he smiles, and he wishes beyond any sense of reason that he could lean over the table and kiss his husband right on the lips. 

“So it was just you and Reese then?” Robert course corrects. Or at least that’s what he thinks he does. But then Aaron gets this look in his eyes, a fleeting look of  _ something  _ that sends a cold shiver up Robert’s spine before Aaron’s looking off to his left and saying the word, “Yeah,” like it’s the biggest lie he’s ever told in his entire life. 

Robert sits up straighter in his seat. “What was that?” 

“What was what?” Aaron asks, his eyes skittering over Robert’s face before they disappear off into space again. 

So Robert leans forward, squeezes Aaron’s hand harder, lowers his voice and says as sternly as he can manage, “That look. That’s your lying look.” 

Aaron’s eyebrows pinch into the middle of his face, his voice a feigned sort of insulted when he says, “I don’t have a lying look.” 

“Aaron,” Robert warns, and Aaron… well he caves, doesn’t he?

“Fine,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “We may have bumped into one of the parents from Caroline’s at the bar and they may have joined us for a bit.” 

“And why didn’t you want to tell me that?” Robert asks, but the way the coldness has spread from his spine to his chest tells him all he needs to know about what’s going to come out of Aaron’s mouth next. 

“Because they’re a guy.” 

“A gay guy?” Robert asks even though he is quite positive that he doesn’t want to know the answer to his own question. 

“Yes, Robert, a gay guy, alright? We ran into a gay guy at a gay bar and he sat and had a gay conversation with Reese about some stupid comic book and then I left. Happy now?” 

_ No,  _ Robert thinks. He is definitely  _ not  _ happy now. But he’s also aware of the fact that if he says too much to Aaron right now, he risks pushing him right into the arms of this gay parent bloke. And so he asks, as carefully as he can manage, “Did you think I’d be jealous? Is that why you didn’t want to tell me?” 

Aaron leans over so he can place his forehead on the table, his voice muffled from it as he says, “I don’t know, Robert. I don’t know what I thought you’d be.” 

He leans up then, looks Robert right in the eye for the first time since the lie started and says, “I guess I figured that you’re stuck in here and miserable all the time, and I know you probably spend ninety-five percent of your time in your own head, and that’s a generous estimate. And I just didn’t wanna give you something else to worry about.” 

“So now I have to worry about this?” he asks with a hint of panic in his voice. 

Aaron rolls his eyes at him, which is oh so helpful right now. “Of course you don’t need to worry about this. You  _ never  _ need to worry about this. I’m just… I’m an idiot.” 

“Is he fit?” Robert asks as soon as Aaron has finished his declaration. Because the answer to that question will decide whether or not Robert will be  _ worried about this.  _

“What?” 

“It’s a simple question, Aaron. Is he attractive?” 

Aaron bites the corner of his bottom lip, a sure indication that he needs time to think, before he shrugs and says, “I don’t know.” 

“Really? You don’t know? Are you selectively blind all of a sudden?”

Aaron leans forward and hisses, “No, I’ve just become incapable of noticing the fitness of anyone other than tall, blond prats, alright? He could be Tom flaming Hardy and I wouldn’t give a stuff.” 

“You have a crush on Tom Hardy?” 

“Oh, pull the other one, Robert, you know what I mean.” 

Robert laughs at that, at the grumpy look on Aaron’s face and the affronted tone of his voice. And he does his best to let this go, at least for the time being. Because Aaron doesn’t deserve his mistrust, he never has. 

“Let’s talk about something else. Like our family room visit,” Robert says brightly. But the change in topic only seems to darken Aaron’s mood further. 

“I wouldn’t get too excited about that if I were you. It seems like we’re making no progress up the list.” He runs his free hand over his face at that, hiding the only thing that Robert wants to see before he’s looking at him again, sadder than before. 

“I’m sorry I even told you about it in the first place. I shoulda waited until it was closer to happening, not gotten your hopes up.” 

“Hey, look at me,” Robert says when Aaron tries to look away again. “Hope’s the only thing I’ve got in here, so don’t ever apologise about that.”

“Yeah, but I’ve been on some forums, and they say it can take up to six months, if even that, just to get one visit. That’s… that’s  _ ages,  _ Rob.” 

_ Not for me,  _ he wants to say.  _ Not when I’m stuck in here like a rat in a cage, running around the same wheel day in and day out.  _ But he keeps his mouth shut on that point because he can tell how much this is impacting Aaron. And the last thing he wants to do is make him feel worse. 

So he says, “We’ll handle it,” squeezes Aaron’s hand even harder, and begins making a plan in his head to fix this. Because if there’s one thing Robert’s always been good at, it’s hatching a plan. 

~*~

“Can you get me moved up the list for the family room?” Robert asks all in one breath as soon as he gets back to his cell. 

Vin is lying on his bunk, reading a magazine, and the way he raises one eyebrow at Robert tells him this conversation will likely not go the way he wants it to. 

“The short answer is no, mate. I’m sorry, but even I don’t have that kinda pull,” he says, and to his credit, he does sound apologetic about it all.

He sits up then, his joints creaking as he keeps his eyes trained on Robert and asks, “Why so desperate all of a sudden?” 

“I just really need to get up it,” he says, the panic starting to ratchet itself up the longer he’s away from Aaron. Away from his husband, who’s going out with possibly fit blokes. Away from the love of his life, who’s been doing everything he can to make Robert’s life in prison better. Away from his  _ soulmate,  _ who deserves so much more than Robert could ever give him. 

“I need to get in that room!” he snaps before reaching out in anger and shoving the contents of the top of their shared desk onto the floor. 

He  _ needs  _ this win. He needs it more than anything right now. 

“Hey, hey, slow down,” Vin says as he gets to his feet and places a calming hand on Robert’s shoulder. “What’s going on?” 

“Remember that James guy?” he asks, assuming it was James that Aaron was talking about. Unless there’s more than one potentially fit single dad at Aaron’s daycare.

Oh god, what if there are more? 

“The father from Seb’s daycare that Aaron mentioned a few weeks back?” Vin asks. 

“Yeah. Well he went out with him last night,” Robert replies, his tone far more bitter than he allowed it to be in front of Aaron. “Or not. They didn’t go  _ out  _ out, they bumped into each other while they were out, but he lied about it at first and I’m just scared, okay? I mean… Aaron doesn’t lie, you know? He doesn’t lie unless there’s something there worth lying about. And I told him we were fine,  _ he told me  _ we were fine, basically, but I don’t know. I just… I just don’t know.” 

“Isn’t this what you wanted for him in the beginning? Why you tried to divorce him? You told me that you wanted to let him move on.” 

Robert looks at Vin like he’s just called his mother a slapper. “Yeah, well that was then,” he almost shouts. 

“So what’s different now?” 

“He gave me hope!” he does shout finally, running his hands back through his hair and tugging on the longer strands as he moves from Vin’s comforting touch so he can pace around their cell. 

“He made me believe that we could do this and if I lose him again… if i lose him again, I don’t think I’d be able to stand it.”

He turns on Vin then, feels the desperation coating every inch of his skin when he says, “I need Aaron to see us as a family again. To see what we’re fighting for. I  _ need  _ that visit.” 

Vin stares at him for a few seconds, something like worry etched into his face before he says, cautiously, “Look, I might not be able to help you, but someone else probably can.” 

“Who?” Robert snaps, the word flying out of his mouth before he can even think it. 

Vin looks at him dead on and shrugs. “Danny.” 

Robert almost laughs at that. He probably would, in fact, if he couldn’t tell that Vin was being deadly serious. But he still has to ask, “The MacFarlane?” Because if there’s one thing Vin’s been drilling into him since the changeover in top dogs here, it’s that he should give MacFarlane and his boys a wide berth. 

“He’s got guards on his payroll. He’s got… clout. If anyone can help you, it’ll be him.” 

Robert rolls the idea over in his head for a few moments, weighs the risks against the possible reward. And just before he’s about to run out and find this Danny right here and now, Vin says one more thing: 

“I doubt you’ll like what it costs you, though.” 

Robert doubts it as well. But whatever the cost, it has to be worth them getting to be a family again. 

~*~

He goes to find Danny immediately, ignoring the small voice in the back of his head that tells him he should wait, think about this, sleep on it for at least one night. 

_ Make a plan.  _

Aaron might be going out again tonight, though. And Seb will be back in daycare on Monday, so even if Aaron doesn’t see this James bloke this weekend, he’ll probably see him then. And Robert…

He can’t stop the thoughts spinning inside his head, the images of Aaron with this faceless bloke, in his arms, smiling, laughing, kissing…

It’s just too much. 

So he finds Danny eventually in the rec room, playing pool with some of his mates. Or he supposes they like to be called “lieutenants.” Either way, there’s a fairly large group of them surrounding their leader and for a moment - just one fleeting  _ moment  _ \- Robert loses his bottle. 

But then Danny spots him, then Danny stands up from where he was about to make a shot, and then Danny shouts, “Sugden!” like Robert is his long lost brother. 

“Or should I say Sugden-Dingle?” he corrects as he moves toward where Robert is standing on the outskirts of the crowd. 

There’s murmurings at his name, some looks that make Robert’s skin prickle like electricity coursing over him. But he does his best to just ignore them all and focus on the man he came to see. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Danny asks eventually, leaning on his cue casually like they’re just having a chat in a cafe somewhere. 

“Do you mind if we have a word… in private?” Robert asks, leaning in on the last part and saying it as quietly as he can. 

“Boss?” some giant block head asks when Robert finishes his question, his eyes all worried like somehow Robert is the threat here. Which is probably why Danny laughs at him, because it’s ridiculous and they all know it. 

“You finish up for me,” Danny says to the block head before handing off his cue, and then his arm is around Robert’s shoulders and he’s leading him off to a quiet corner of the rec room. 

_ It’s now or never,  _ Robert thinks. But when Danny asks, “What can I do for you?” Robert still finds himself wavering. 

“I was wondering if… if maybe,” he starts to stammer, his tongue tied up in knots all of a sudden like he’s an imbecile incapable of making a deal. And then he remembers who he is. He’s Robert flaming Sugden-Dingle. He could sell ketchup to a man in a white suit. 

He was  _ made for this.  _

And so he straightens his posture, clears his throat, and says, “I heard a rumour that if someone wanted to get up the list for the family room, you’re the man to talk to.” 

Danny looks at him. No, scratch that, Danny  _ studies him,  _ his gaze sweeping over Robert’s entire  _ being  _ before he says, “Word is you murdered a rapist.” 

Robert… was not expecting that. Something that’s evidenced by the way he has no idea how to respond to it. 

Danny just keeps going anyway, though, his voice serious when he says, “My sister was raped. Tried to kill herself because of it. They never caught the guy, but if we had? Well, let’s just say I’d be serving a longer sentence in here than the one I’ve got.” 

Never in a million years did he think he’d have anything in common with a MacFarlane. But here he is. 

“I can get you up the list,” he says smoothly, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “But you’re gonna owe me a favour.” 

“What kind of favour?” Robert asks, willing his voice not to shake. 

Danny just places his hand on Robert’s shoulder and leans in, a crooked smile spreading over his face when he replies, “I’ll let you know when I think of it.”

~*~

**21 March 2020**

They let Robert into the room first after what equates to a full body strip search. And he hopes they’re not doing the same to Aaron on the other side, that he doesn’t have to be subjected to the humiliation that comes with being able to see each other like normal people. 

There’s a sofa in the room, an old leather one, brown and cracked, and there are toys everywhere for pretty much any age of child imaginable. 

_ Any child under eight anyways,  _ Robert thinks. 

He’s sitting on the sofa now, waiting for the visit to begin and wondering absently just how he’s going to have to pay for this. It doesn’t matter, though, he knows that. He can already tell that this will be worth it. Just this room, just the three of them with guards on the other side of the two-way mirror across from the sofa. 

_ Just his family.  _

It seems to take ages but it’s probably only a few minutes before the door on the other side of the room opens. And then they’re here. Aaron,  _ his Aaron,  _ with his boy,  _ their boy _ bundled in his arms. And all of a sudden Robert’s eyes are just positively  _ leaking.  _

He gets to his feet immediately, goes over to Aaron and wraps his arms around both of them before leaning in for a kiss he didn’t even think he’d be allowed to have. Even his imagination could never be that big. 

But his lips are on Aaron’s, pressing in so hard his face is starting to hurt. And he can taste Aaron’s tears as they fall between their lips. Or maybe they’re his own tears, who knows. All he knows is that he’s  _ kissing Aaron  _ and nothing in the world has ever felt so good. 

That’s when he feels a slap on his cheek, just as he’s wondering how much he can get away with Aaron under the watchful eyes of the guards. There’s a slap on Aaron’s cheek too, by the sound of it, and then they’re pulling apart and looking at where Seb was just patiently enduring their  _ moment.  _

“Daddy!” Seb exclaims. And it’s stupid, maybe, how he thought Seb wouldn’t remember him. He’s young, after all, and it’s been months and months since he last saw him. But there he is, staring back at him with Rebecca’s eyes, reaching his hands out for Robert to take him. And it’s like there’s been this giant fissure in his heart, one he didn’t even know existed until Seb and Aaron started sewing it back up. 

He takes Seb from Aaron, lifts him high in the air and begins twirling around the room. And Seb’s giggles, mixed with his and Aaron’s laughter, fill the room to the point of bursting. 

“Sing, daddy, sing!” Seb shouts once Robert’s arms become too tired to hold him aloft any longer. And Robert feels his eyes sting with tears at that as well. At how much Seb  _ remembers.  _

Aaron sits down next to him, rests his hand on Robert’s thigh, and Robert’s voice positively croaks all the way through his rendition of “The Wheels on the Bus.” 

By the time he gets to “The Itsy Bitsy Spider,” he swears he’s about to lose his voice entirely. Which means it’s good that Seb takes that moment to notice the colourful blocks piled in front of the sofa. 

He smacks Robert’s chest and says, “Down!” about a dozen times before Robert finally lets him go. And he already misses having him in his arms. Aaron’s hand is still on his thigh, though, and Robert can still taste him on his lips, so the pain doesn’t last that long. 

He leans over, whispers the words, “I love you,” directly into Aaron’s mouth before claiming him again, licking across his lips before being allowed access. And the taste of Aaron’s cheap, bargain coffee is enough to make him lightheaded. 

“Daddy!” Seb screams. “Dada Fuzzy! Play!” 

Robert laughs into Aaron’s mouth. 

“Dada Fuzzy?” he asks once he’s pulled back proper. 

“He still remembers,” Aaron replies all dreamily, and this moment, right here, is one that Robert will have etched into his memory forever. One that he’ll never let go, as long as he lives, as he pecks Aaron one more time on the lips before crawling onto the floor to play with Seb. 

Aaron follows a second later, the three of them competing to see who can build the tallest tower before Seb swings his arms out and makes all of them crash to the ground. And the laughter that follows…

_ The laughter that follows.  _

Robert’s never felt like this before, never felt this kind of  _ hope.  _ And he knows it’s still early days, that he’s daft to even expect this to continue. But Seb is here and Aaron is here and maybe, just  _ maybe  _ they can have a life here. Maybe things will be okay. 

And for now, that’s enough. 


	7. April 2020

**22 April 2020**

“I’m not gonna sing, if that’s what you’re afraid of,” Aaron says cheekily as he stares across the table at Robert. 

It never gets old, coming here, getting to see Robert, talk to him, hold his hand. He wants more, of course he does. For years, at least seventy-five percent of their relationship was built around the best sex Aaron has ever had, and to suddenly  _ not  _ have that is hard. 

So yeah, he wants more than this, even more than the bits and pieces they’ve stolen in the handful of family room visits they’ve had over the past month - Robert’s lips on his, Aaron’s hand on Robert’s thigh. But Aaron is one hundred percent convinced that he can wait out the years as long as he at least has this. 

Just this. 

“Good, because any popularity I have in this place would go down the drain if you tried to sing to me,” Robert replies, his eyes sparkling like this is somehow the best birthday he’s ever had, banged up and scraping by with an hour-long visit from his husband. 

“I thought you loved my singing.” 

“Yeah, when you’re in the shower… naked. With me incidentally naked beside you. Or should I say  _ behind  _ you.” 

Robert’s foot slides up the inside of Aaron’s calf at that, the lace-free loafers they make every prisoner wear pressing hard through Aaron’s jeans. And for a split second, he imagines what it would be like if they were alone right now. 

Robert would have him bent over the table inside of ten seconds, and anyone that tells you different would be a damn liar. 

“Behave,” Aaron says under his breath, his face tipping down to try and hide the flush creeping up from his neck. Robert doesn’t stop pushing, though. He just slides his thumb under the sleeve of Aaron’s jumper and rubs it gently over his pulse point. Back and forth and back and forth until Aaron feels like he’s going mad with it. 

“We can’t give you your real pressies until this weekend,” Aaron says after clearing his throat in the hopes that it’ll also clear away the overpowering  _ need  _ he feels any time Robert touches him. 

Not surprisingly, it doesn’t. 

“But I wanted to give you at least a little summat today.”

He reaches into his pocket at that, takes out a slightly crumpled photo and slides it over the table to Robert. 

“You know I was joking about this,” Robert says as he stares wide-eyed at the picture of Aaron in his work overalls that he’d had Reese take for him in one of the most embarrassing moments of his entire life. 

“If you don’t want it,” Aaron starts, but before he can even reach his hand properly across the table, Robert is pulling the photo protectively to his chest. 

“Back off, grabby,” he says, waiting for Aaron to retract his hand before moving the photo enough to see it again. 

“Are those purple?” he asks almost dreamily as he trails his fingers gently over the photo like it’s some sorta precious thing and not a complete gag gift.

“It’s Al’s favourite colour,” Aaron explains. 

“Well please thank Al for me on that count. I’ve always loved you in purple.” He pauses for a few long seconds, stares lovingly at the photo a bit more, before asking, “Don’t tell me that Reese took this?” 

“Yeah,” Aaron groans. “So you better appreciate it. I think she’ll be taking the piss for months for that one.” 

“I’d like to meet her someday,” Robert says, his voice lowering at that, dipping into something sad, like he knows how unlikely that meeting is. 

“Oh trust me, she’d love to meet you, too,” Aaron says all upbeat in a clear attempt to pick Robert’s mood back up. “She makes me talk about you all the time. Not like it takes much forcing, of course. You and Seb are pretty much the only things I’m capable of speaking about in more than grunts and head nods.” 

“Really?” Robert asks, looking up at Aaron again with so much hope in his eyes it practically knocks Aaron flat. 

He grips Robert’s wrist, his voice almost fierce in its determination when he says, “Of course, really, you idiot. You’re the most important thing in my life, Robert. You always have been.” 

It looks like Robert believes him. Or, well, it looks like Robert  _ wants  _ to believe him. And Aaron wishes he knew of a way to convince him for real because the look of uncertainty he sees buried in all of Robert’s other expressions these days is sometimes too much for him. Which means he can’t even imagine how much worse it is for Robert to actually  _ feel  _ that way. 

Aaron’s used to feeling insecure when it comes to Robert. But seeing Robert feel the same way? It rattles him. 

“I can’t wait to give you my real gift,” Aaron says, dipping his voice lower than Robert’s but in a different way, something playful about it in his continued attempt to steer things back to the happy place they were in before. 

Robert takes the bait, raising one perfect eyebrow at him while smiling crookedly in a way that is so  _ Robert  _ that it makes Aaron wanna dive over the table and snog his face off. 

“I didn’t mean for that to sound dirty,” Aaron lies. 

“Good, because I don’t think the guards would be best pleased if we started shagging on the leather couch in the family room. Not that I haven’t thought of it, mind.”

“Really?” Aaron asks, like it’s some sorta revelation that his  _ husband  _ has sexual fantasies about him. 

Robert leans in, makes his voice rumble in the way that always manages to make Aaron’s whole body ache as he says, “Only every night since our first visit there.”

He slides his hand further up the sleeve of Aaron’s jumper, runs his thumb along the line of Aaron’s vein and adds, “If you remember, I have quite the vivid imagination.” 

Aaron actually gulps at that, at the thought of all the…  _ imaginative  _ things they’ve gotten up to over the years. And then he nods a couple eager times and says, “I remember,” because he does. 

He remembers it all. 

~*~

There are only a few children playing in Caroline’s sitting room when Aaron lets himself in, just like usual. 

Seb is one of three heads that pop up at his entrance, his blue eyes curiously happy as he waves his hand furiously and shouts, “Hi, Dada!”

He dropped the “Fuzzy” a week or so ago, probably because he just got tired of so many words. Not that Aaron’s complaining. He’ll take anything even remotely  _ dad  _ related. 

“Hey, bud,” Aaron says as he crouches down next to where Seb, Maddie, and a boy whose name Aaron thinks is Xavier are colouring… something on a giant piece of paper. 

It looks like a massive blob of colour, but when Seb asks, “You like?” Aaron tells him it’s beautiful. 

“Oh Aaron, I’m glad that’s you,” Caroline calls from the kitchen doorway. “I was hoping we could have a quick word.” 

“Sure,” Aaron replies before kissing Seb on the top of his head and ruffling his hair for good measure. 

His actions set off a round of giggles in Seb, and Aaron finds himself smiling from ear to bloody ear at the reaction. At how the simplest things seem so monumental when they’re coming from Seb. Or Robert. 

His family. 

“What’s up?” he asks as he leans against the counter rather than take a seat at the kitchen table with Caroline, not because he doesn’t wanna be polite or whatever. It’s just he’s been sitting for the last hour straight and his legs need to stretch a bit. 

Caroline looks at him for a few seconds, her brow furrowed like she’s really struggling with what she wants to say here. And Aaron’s skin begins to prick with nerves at that because if there’s one thing Caroline  _ isn’t,  _ it’s short of words to say. 

“These late Wednesdays,” she says almost carefully as she clasps her hands in front of her on the table. “What were they for again?” 

“Overtime at work,” Aaron responds immediately, the lie ready as it’s always been, tucked away in his back pocket. 

“Right. It’s just… I don’t want to seem like a busybody, but Selena and I, we took the kids to the playground down the street today, and Seb… well, he fell-”

Aaron pushes himself off the counter immediately, his entire body straightening as he asks, “Is he alright?” because he looked fine out there in the sitting room, but that doesn’t mean anything, does it? He could have one of those hidden injuries, something under his clothes or in his head that Aaron didn’t see. He could be hiding his pain, burying it in crayons and drawings. He could be  _ anything,  _ and Aaron just-

“He’s fine now,” Caroline interrupts the spiraling going on in Aaron’s mind. “He just got a scraped knee. But he was quite upset at the time and I tried to get ahold of you, only you didn’t answer your mobile, so I called your work.”

Oh. 

Shit. 

“They said you usually leave early on Wednesdays.” 

The room is deathly quiet once Caroline stops speaking, nothing but the distant sound of three kids colouring in the other room reaching his ears as he pulls the bottom corner of his lip into his mouth and wonders what the bloody hell he’s gonna say here. 

“Feel free to tell me it’s none of my business, it’s just… I usually like to know where I can get ahold of my parents, in case something like this happens.”

“I was with my husband,” Aaron blurts out, deciding on the hop to tell the truth to her for once because he might as well, right? Let the chips fall or whatever. 

“Oh,” Caroline replies. “At his work?” 

Aaron settles his gaze on a patch of flooring a few feet in front of him, shoves his hands in his pockets and begins rocking on his heels before he bites the bullet and says, “No, at his prison visitation.” 

“Oh Aaron,” she says, all caring or summat. And it makes Aaron risk looking her in the eye again. 

She looks sad, or at the very least sympathetic. Which is not really what he was expecting from this little truth telling. 

He was expecting disgust. Anger. Betrayal. Something to be thrown at his head before or after he and his kid were chucked out and told never to return. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asks, her voice still all… all  _ nice.  _

“Honestly? Because I thought you’d tell me to do one and I really needed a safe place to leave Seb.” 

“And what about me made you think that I would judge you like that?” she says, almost, like, affronted or summat. And really, Aaron doesn’t have a good answer for that. 

So he shrugs, says, “I dunno,” because he doesn’t. From the moment he met her, Caroline has been nothing but kind and helpful. There really was no reason for him to think she’d ever be anything but. 

“I’m sorry,” he says honestly. “For lying and for… for thinking that about you. You’re one of the nicest people I’ve ever known and it was wrong of me to think you’d… you know… judge.” 

She blushes slightly at his comments, waves a hand in the air and says, “Stop that right now, young man. You’re gonna make me blush.”

He doesn’t have the heart to tell her that it’s too late for that. 

“I’m glad I know,” she concludes after fiddling with her hair for a bit. “Now I know that Wednesday afternoons-”

“And every other Saturday afternoon,” he interrupts, referring to the days they don’t get to use the family room that he’s also called “overtime at work.” 

“And every other Saturday afternoon is a time where I won’t be able to get in touch with you. And I’ll take better care to watch Seb when he’s playing with the bigger kids on the slide.” 

“Thank you,” he says from the bottom of his flaming heart. Because it’s not just about having daycare, it really is about having some place where Aaron knows Seb is  _ safe  _ when he’s not around. He couldn’t put a price on that even if he tried. 

“There’s no need to thank me, Aaron. Now go get your little boy home. I may have promised him that his Dada would give him ice cream tonight to make up for the scrape.” 

He smiles, even laughs a little before saying, “Thanks for the head’s up. I’ll be sure to do that.” And then he’s nodding at her before heading back to the sitting room to collect Seb. 

It’s no longer just the three kids when he gets there, though. It’s three kids plus one adult, plus  _ James.  _ And from the look on his face, he just heard every single word Caroline and Aaron spoke. 

Damnit. 

It’s one thing, Caroline knowing his business. He’s her employer, technically. She spends almost as much time with Seb as he does. But having random parents walking around with the knowledge that Aaron’s husband is a convict is not exactly what he wants out of life. 

“I’m sorry, but I… I heard,” James starts to stutter, but Aaron waves him off before he gets too far into his apology. 

“It’s fine,” he lies. “I should be getting Seb home, though. So-”

“I won’t tell anyone, I promise,” James interrupts, saying the words in one long rush. 

“Um… thanks for that.”

It’s a statement. But it’s also sort of a question. 

“And I'm here, if you… you know, if you need someone to talk to about it.” 

Aaron stares at James for a few seconds, tries to suss out what exactly his game is here before saying, “Cheers for the offer, but I’m fine, ta.” Because he is. 

Robert is in prison. He’s not dead. He’s just down the flaming street. And it’s hard, sure, not having him in his house, in his bed, in his day-to-day  _ life.  _ But Aaron likes to think that he’s managing well, thank you very much. So he doesn’t need a shoulder to cry on or whatever James is offering. 

It’s why he picks up Seb, careful of his knees until he can find out which one is scraped up, and nods once politely at where James is still standing like a lemon before walking Seb home. 

He’s got tea to prepare, after all. And a heaping bowl of ice cream to dish out after that. 

~*~

**25 April 2020**

“Sorry they’re not wrapped,” Aaron explains as he places a stack of presents on Robert’s lap. “The guards tore all the paper off. It was cute, too. Had stars on it and everything. It wasn’t even on sale. Paid full price n’all. Seb picked it out.” 

Robert looks up from the items in his lap to Aaron’s face and feels like he has just gotten punched in the gut. 

It’s a typical feeling he gets when he looks at Aaron, winded like he’s just run a marathon. But it’s always worse when he can tell Aaron is sad or disappointed about something. 

Robert just wants to fix it, he  _ always  _ wants to fix it, so he says, “Wrapping paper is overrated,” and leans out to grab the back of Aaron’s neck so he can pull him in for a quick kiss. 

“Boo!” Seb says from Aaron’s lap before giggling like mad, probably because every time he boos them when they kiss, Aaron tickles him until he practically can’t breathe. 

“Traitor!” Aaron says down to Seb, getting an adorable, “Traitor!” echoed in return before Aaron attacks Seb with his fingertips. 

He knows that Seb isn’t biologically Aaron’s in any way, but he swears he got his ticklishness from him all the same. Robert can’t even count how many times he’s had Aaron pinned and immobile from just the light pressure of a well placed digit. 

“Em, I do have presents to open!” Robert calls out over the sounds of both his husband and his son’s glee. 

Seb is flat on his back now, draped over Aaron’s thighs, his legs wildly kicking the open air, his face bright pink and his lips pulled into the most giant smile Robert’s probably ever seen on him. 

Aaron has that effect on a lot of people. 

He sits up now, though. Or is pulled up by Aaron, rather, his hands already clapping as the tickling stops and he’s able to say, “Presents! Presents!” like it’s his birthday they’re celebrating and not Robert’s. 

Robert leans down and kisses the tip of Seb’s nose. “Let’s see what we have here, shall we?” 

The first thing he sees is a little tub of pomade that he’s pretty sure is an exact replica of the one he has in his cell from Vin. 

Maybe the shops in the area have a smaller selection than back home, maybe this kind is really the only one you can buy, but as he pretends to unwrap his imaginary wrapping paper and paints on a look of surprise, he convinces himself that Aaron sniffed around every single possible pomade in order to find the exact one Robert’s been using. 

It’s something he’d do, anyway. 

“Daddy hair fluff!” Seb says excitedly, motioning for Robert to lean down so he can run his hands haphazardly through Robert’s hair. And he doesn’t know what it says, that Seb knows what pomade it, but he guesses it just reinforces that he’s his kid after all. 

The next gift he “opens” is a stack of three new pairs of boxer briefs, clearly washed judging by the wafting scent of Aaron’s laundry soap. 

“Seb wanted to get the ones with the penguins on them,” he says as he begins bouncing the little boy in question on his knee. “But I thought we’d keep it to simple black so as not to embarrass you too much.” 

“Such a thoughtful husband I have,” Robert practically coos. But when he leans in to kiss Aaron again, Seb smacks his cheek hard enough to actually sting a bit. 

“Ow!” Robert says, more out of surprise than pain. “What was that for?” 

Seb gives him this stern little look before pointing at Robert’s lap and saying, “Presents,” in a way that sounds so snotty he can’t help but laugh his head off at it. 

Aaron joins in as well, until all three of them are just laughing together. And even though today’s not his actual birthday, this is still shaping up to be one of his best birthdays ever. What more could he need? 

Underneath the underwear is a simple soft cover book with the words  _ Game of Thrones  _ written across the front. 

“I know you’ve read ‘em before,” Aaron dives in as soon as Robert sees the book. “But you’ve watched the show enough times I figured you’re not too fussed by repeats. Plus, they’re ridiculously long, so they should take you a bit of time to get through them.” 

“Aaron,” Robert starts to say, and he can feel his voice softening, the tone loosening as he runs his hand over the simple embossing on the cover. 

“We’ve got the rest of ‘em at home. Figured we could trade ‘em out when you finish one n’all. But… you know… d’you like it?” 

“I love it,” he says from the bottom of his heart, grabbing Seb’s hands so he can’t smack him again when he leans in and presses his lips to Aaron’s, savouring the moment of the three of them wrapped up together like a little family. 

They are, aren’t they? This is Robert’s family now. And it’s all he really needs. 

“There’s, uh, one more thing,” Aaron says shyly once Robert gives him back the use of his lips. 

It’s a bottle of shower gel, thirty quids worth if he remembers correctly. And Robert can’t help how soppy he sounds when he asks, “How did you remember?” 

“Well, I may have taken the bottle with me when I moved down here. Also may have had a shower or two with it just to… well, you know. Did you know they don’t sell it down south, though? I had to get Liv to buy it and post it to me. Which basically means I had about a week of her taking the mick but it was worth it, I reckon. If you like it still, that is.” 

“I love it,” he says, his voice full of awe as he runs his thumb over the bottle of the familiar shower gel. “And I love  _ you.  _ I love both of you.” And then Robert is all but diving over the distance between them to pull Aaron and Seb into his arms as his presents scatter all across the floor. 

“I love you,” he whispers into Aaron’s ear, one last time just for him. “Thank you for all this.” 

“Well, I would’ve gotten more, but there’s a limit on what they allow you to have in here, so-”

“Aaron?” Robert interrupts, holding him even tighter than before. “Thank you.” 

Aaron huffs before pressing a kiss to Robert’s neck and saying, “You’re welcome.” 

“Was that so hard?” Robert asks with a laugh. But before Aaron can reply, Seb is booing them and pressing hard against their chests. 

“Toys!” he screams, clearly sick of the present opening extravaganza. And so Aaron lets him down on the floor to waddle off in search of whatever toy strikes his fancy. 

This week it’s the single racecar in the bin, the one he likes to drive recklessly around the room while making  _ vroom  _ noises that he probably learned from Aaron. Or Ross. But thinking of Ross makes him think of Rebecca, which is why he’s lost in his own head a short while later as he sits in the corner of the sofa, one leg up and one down with Aaron draped between his open legs. 

“Where’d you go?” Aaron asks as he tips his head back and up so he can see Robert’s face. 

“How do you know I went anywhere?” he asks, but he can hear it in his voice and everything. Can hear the word  _ Rebecca  _ whispered over everything as they watch their son amuse himself with a racecar while the guilt at her absence just coats every inch of his skin. 

“Because you’ve practically got her name tattooed across your forehead right now?” Aaron asks, always so damn intuitive that it’s maddening. 

“I’ll have you know I was just thinking of how much fun I’m going to have enjoying my birthday presents.” 

Aaron rolls onto his side, hefting himself up a bit so he can get a better look at Robert before saying, “No you weren’t. You were feeling guilty about us being here with Seb when Rebecca can’t. Thinking about how… how he doesn’t got a mum now, how he never will. And thinking about how you somehow managed to figure out a way to blame yourself for that. Am I getting close?” 

“I hate you sometimes, you know that?” he asks playfully before leaning in to kiss Aaron’s forehead. 

“No you don’t, but I am right, aren’t I?” 

Robert sighs deeply, giving himself a second to think before he says, “Today has been so perfect, Aaron. Can’t we just sit here and watch our son, hold each other, and just  _ be  _ for a little while?” 

Aaron studies him in a way that always feels like lasers scanning the darkest corners of Robert’s brain. But even if he finds something today, he doesn’t press it. Instead, he just tips his head up, puckers his lips, and silently asks for a kiss that Robert is happy to give. 

It’s soft. It’s all so incredibly  _ soft  _ that for a moment, Robert can trick himself into believing that this is just a lazy Saturday at home. That any minute now, Aaron will attempt to make him a birthday tea that’s somehow burnt and undercooked at the exact same time. That later, they’ll go to bed together, take off each other’s clothes and meet in all the ways they’ve become experts in. 

It’s all so soft that he can trick himself into thinking that this is  _ real,  _ that it can actually last. 

And for a moment, just one moment, Robert can breathe. 

~*~

Robert is so focused on not dropping any of his presents that he doesn’t notice there’s someone leaning against the wall in the corner of his cell until that person speaks. 

“How was the birthday party?” 

He whips his head to the left and almost drops his body wash in the process. 

“It was good,” he answers tentatively, trying not to let his voice shake in front of Danny because MacFarlanes like to find your weaknesses and exploit them for all they’re worth. 

As if Danny doesn’t already know his. 

“I’m glad,” Danny replies as he pushes himself off the wall, taking some of Robert’s presents out of his hands and placing them carefully on the desk for him like he’s some sort of friendly neighbourhood drug dealer. 

And then he drops the hammer. 

“It’s always good to have a nice break before you start a new job.” 

Robert swallows hard past the lump in his throat before placing the rest of his things neatly on the desk. “What new job is that?” 

Danny smiles at him, chipped teeth n’all. “The one you’ll be doing to pay me back for all these visits you’ve had. And the one you’ll  _ keep  _ doing to make sure the visits don’t stop.” 

He knew this was coming. From the moment he went to Danny for help, he knew a day would come where that debt would be cashed in. He just hoped that he’d have a little more time, he supposes. 

“I have a position I think you’ll be perfect for,” Danny continues as if they’re two blokes at some advertising agency talking about open jobs for juniour execs. 

“And if you do this for me, I’ll guarantee the continuation of these twice-a-month visits. Regular work for regular visits. What do ya say?” 

“I say what’s the job?” he asks while crossing his arms over his chest like he’s got a single leg to stand on here. 

He’s already in debt to the man. This isn’t a negotiation. It’s an ultimatum. 

“Ah! Smart man. Wanna know the specifics first. The job is doing deliveries for me.” 

“No,” Robert says, flat out like, again, he’s got anything to work with here. “If I get caught with drugs on me I’ll lose my visits  _ and  _ they’ll put me in solitary for a stretch. I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t  _ handle  _ that.” 

“Easy there,” Danny soothes as he rests his hands on Robert’s shoulders. “No one said anything about drugs.” 

“So… what am I delivering then?” he asks cautiously. 

“Just a little money,” Danny replies with a shrug of his shoulder. 

“To who?” 

Danny lets him go at that, backs up a few steps, stuffs his hands in his back pockets and says, “Oh, you know, the odd guard or two.” 

He might as well be whistling for how casual he’s trying to make this all seem. But Robert isn’t daft, so he doesn’t buy the act. 

“Bent guards?” he asks with something close to a laugh. “You want me to deliver payoffs to bent guards? Like as if that’s any less dangerous than delivering gear.” 

“No one will suspect you, Robert,” Danny says, his voice like a purr now, or like the hypnotic hiss of a snake. “Plus, you’re in for murder. What do you have to lose?” 

“I could lose my family, remember?”

Danny just looks at him, his expression shifting to something cold, deadly, as he says, “And I can guarantee that you lose them if you don’t take the job. Your call.” And with that, he just walks out on the middle of the conversation like he already knows the answer to his question. 

And really, Robert knows it as well. 

~*~

**29 April 2020**

Robert is no stranger to criminal activity. It’s just that, apart from the odd outlier, his crimes are usually more of the white collar variety. Fraud, that sort of thing. 

This is different. This is him consciously deciding to do something that could add more time to his sentence. This is him, taking part in an illegal exchange of money used to guarantee god knows what for Danny and his cohorts. 

This is Robert, risking everything in the hopes of not losing it all anyway in the end. 

He doesn’t know what he’s expecting, but the first guard looks absolutely normal to him. He remembers him from the frisk line a few times, how professional he always was, never overly invasive like he actually acknowledged that the prisoners were people, too. 

He’s in his fifties, Robert would guess, with gray hair around his temples and a bit of a belly. He probably has a family, too. Hell, he’s probably doing this for his family. And Robert almost can’t bring himself to do what he already agreed he would do. 

Danny made him shake on it. This whole thing is just ridiculous. 

He can feel himself trembling as he approaches the guard - Officer Smith or Johnson or something else innocuous like that. His limbs are being liquified as he walks to the point that he’ll be surprised if he doesn't collapse before he gets to his destination. But he keeps putting one foot in front of the other because he loves Aaron and Seb. He  _ loves them.  _ And so he’ll do anything to keep them in his life. 

“Can I borrow your newspaper?” Robert asks once he’s face-to-face with Officer What’s His Name. There’s another guard next to him, eyeing him up like he’s wondering how Robert has the gall to ask for a newspaper in this day and age. 

But Johnson - Robert can read his name tag now - just smiles lightly at him, reaches behind him to take out the newspaper he’s got folded up in his back pocket, and hands it to Robert. 

“Enjoy,” Johnson says conversationally, and Robert feels like he’s going to vomit all over his pristine blue uniform. 

_ You’re halfway there,  _ he reminds himself as he makes his way back to an empty table across the common room. And then he sits down to read his newspaper cover to cover, just as he was told. 

He doesn’t see a single word of it. It’s all just a giant blur as his leg bounces and his fingers fidget until he’s finally flipping over to the back of the newspaper. 

The other guard is gone when Robert looks up again, and Johnson is now thankfully standing all by himself as their eyes meet for the briefest of seconds across the crowded room. 

There’s something hungry in his stare now, smug as well, and Robert can’t believe that he ever thought this guard looked “normal.” 

He’s a shark, just like everyone else Danny associates with. And Robert is about to make this shark a few thousand pounds richer. 

He gets to his feet at that, willing himself to move if only to get this whole mess over with, even though he knows this is just the beginning. That there are three other guards he needs to give payoffs to in the next ten days, and that next month he’ll just have to do it again. And again. And  _ again.  _

It’s bound to get easier though, isn’t it? The more he does this, the more it’ll become like nothing to him. And the reward of having private time with Aaron and Seb twice a month will be more than worth it. 

He has to know that. 

As he’s standing, he reaches into his back pocket for the money he’s supposed to be giving to Officer Johnson. He makes sure no one is looking at him, confirms that he’s safe before he slips the money into the paper and begins walking back to where Johnson is standing across the room. 

He feels a hand clasp onto his arm before he makes it halfway there, though, his heart ramming against his ribs as he looks down to see Vin looking up at him with a casual looking smile on his face. 

“Mind if I borrow your newspaper?” 

Yes, he minds. He minds very,  _ very  _ much. He can’t say that, though, not without getting Vin suspicious in the middle of a  _ crowded room.  _ So he just says, “It’s actually Officer Johnson’s and I promised I’d get it back to him sharpish.” 

It’s a weak lie, and Vin seems to agree, judging by the way he just studies Robert like he’s searching for the truth. And Robert is about to just pull away, run across the room and fling the paper in Johnson’s face before Vin seems to sense the panic in his expression. 

He tips his head at Robert, nods a little like somehow maybe he  _ gets it,  _ before letting go of Robert’s arm and backing off slowly. 

“We’ll talk about this later, yeah?” Vin asks, and even though Robert doesn’t want to talk about it  _ ever,  _ he still nods his head like a puppet because he’s going to need to talk about this whole mess with someone, and Vin and Aaron are all he’s got. 

There’s no way Aaron will ever hear a word of this. 

He breathes a sigh of relief once Vin has completely backed off, his eyes blinking about a dozen times to make his vision clear again before he makes his way over to Johnson and hands off the newspaper. 

“Thanks for letting me borrow it,” he manages to sputter out. 

Johnson smiles at him, something sinister about the expression as he replies, “My pleasure.” And Robert feels like he’s going to be sick again. 

Thank god he’s got a visit with Aaron today. He needs a reminder that there’s good in his life right now, and Aaron is the best person he knows to give him that. 

~*~

Aaron groans for the fiftieth time as he continues to work on the alternator beneath his greased up fingers. 

It was supposed to be the battery. It was supposed to be a quick fix so Aaron could get off and shower before his visit to Robert this afternoon. But the new battery proved to be as rubbish as the old one, which led Aaron down the road to Alternator Land and now here he is, an hour and a half later, still working on the thing. 

“Move,” Reese says gruffly as she elbows him out of the way. 

“What was that for?” Aaron bites back. 

Reese just rolls her eyes at him. “You’ve been grumbling for over an hour now, and I know you’ve got a visit in less time than that. So go home, take a quick shower so you don’t smell, and say hi to your hubby for me.” 

“I don’t smell,” Aaron replies huffily. But Reese just grabs his left arm, lifts it up, and presses his face downward toward it. 

“Sniff,” she commands. And Aaron usually tries to fight back against her as much as possible, but he gets an accidental whiff and… yeah… he smells pretty bloody rank. 

“I told Al I’d finish this car before I left,” he says in a way that could almost be seen as a verbal pout if Aaron ever did that sorta thing. Which he doesn’t. Ever. 

“And I’m saying I’ll finish it for you.”

Aaron narrows his gaze at her. “Why would you do that?” 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, it’s not for you but for  _ me.  _ Because I know you won’t be worth living with tomorrow if you miss your visit today. So go,” she finishes, making a shooing motion with her hands. “I’ll finish up here.” 

Aaron’s suspicion morphs into a smile that feels like it’s splitting his face in two. But all he says is a quick, “Thanks,” because he doesn’t wanna let Reese’s head get too big or summat. 

He runs for his car at that, checking his phone to see how much time he’s got. But before he’s able to put it back in the pocket of the overalls he realizes he hasn’t taken off yet, it starts ringing. 

“Hi Caroline, what’s up?” he asks breathlessly, picking the call up immediately because if there’s one person whose calls he doesn’t wanna ignore, it’s hers. 

“I’m sorry, Aaron,” she says all shakily in a way that makes Aaron freeze, inside and out. Makes every single vein in his body flood with ice water as he begins gripping the phone so tight in his hand it hurts. 

“Seb’s missing.” 


End file.
